


Wonder Under Summer Skies

by therogueskimo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Bullying, Depression, Eroda, Explicit Sexual Content, First Times, M/M, Magic, Mystery, Research, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt, basically i took the adore you music video and made it magical, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 71,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therogueskimo/pseuds/therogueskimo
Summary: Here’s the thing you need to know about Eroda – nothing ever changes. Harry’s been living the same life for as long as he can remember. He was one of those strange things that Erodians didn't like, and as much as he tried to fight it, fate came for him as it came for the others. The others only he seemed to remember. Or maybe he was just the only one who cared. In the end, there was only one thing left he could do. Was it a coward’s way out? Maybe. But he was older now, old enough to know that if this was the only life he was going to be given, he didn’t want to live it anymore.Everything changed when Louis arrived.Harry is suddenly thrown back into a world of mystery and magic, with new information coming to light that could lead him, and Louis, to answers they desperately need.With Louis’ help, Harry discovers that nothing is what it seems, and that love might still be part of his destiny after all.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 78
Kudos: 120





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers!
> 
> Wow, I can't believe I'm finally putting this out there into the world. I've been working on it since the day the [Adore You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yezDEWako8U) music video came out, and I'm so excited to share it with you. 
> 
> Few things first:
> 
> I took what Harry gave us with Adore You and Eroda, which was a lot of magical realism that I LOVED, and turned it into a fantasy adventure story with a love interest. I really hope that people will take a chance on this fic, even if fantasy isn't their favorite genre; Personally, I think this fandom is lacking in the science fiction/fantasy AU department, but that's just me. 
> 
> This story will be published in three parts. I was going to go with chaptered, but the chapter breaks were completely inconsistent and it felt more natural to me to have three parts - indicating a beginning, middle, and end to their story. 
> 
> I know a lot of people in the fandom connect Eroda to a fic called Tired Tired Sea. I would just like to say that I have not read this fic (even though I really want to) - I purposefully put off reading it so I wouldn't accidentally borrow ideas from something someone else had already created. Any similarities to this fic are purely coincidental.
> 
> Thank yous:
> 
> Maggie, my fantasy queen, my warrior beta, I love you. Thank you for putting up with my constant texts and questions and readthroughs - you are a star. Check out her fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amomentoflove/pseuds/amomentoflove)
> 
> Coco, you are an absolute genius with photos and you helped make my moodboard what it is. You also ask the best questions to keep me on my toes and on top of my plot holes. Thank you so much!
> 
> Chloe, your willingness to read over this even though you aren't a fan of fantasy means the world to me. I hope this fic makes you want to read more fantasy.
> 
> Harry Styles, my beautiful man, thank you for this story and this video and this song. It has inspired me in ways you can't imagine, and I'm so grateful to have been a fan for the last ten years. Here's to ten more. 
> 
> And lastly, thank you to you guys! I know I don't post a whole lot, but it's only because I want my fics to fit my vision and to be as good as they can be for you all. I hope you'll enjoy what I've done with the world Harry created, and I hope you'll share it with your friends. 
> 
> Please feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rogueskimo) :)
> 
> Love to you all, always <3
> 
> L .xx

In Eroda, things were not often out of place. Every morning dawned bright but cloudy; the sounds of the water lapping at the docks could be heard from every house on the isle. The smell of the salty water was a permanent scent in the air, but no one ever complained.

The streets were filled with the same people that had known each other all their lives. They’d all grown up together, married, and had children of their own who played in the alleys, chasing each other around until their parents called them in. 

In the mornings, the shop lights flickered on at exactly half 8, and the doors were unlocked with a collective click that echoed around the majority of the small town. 

The hairdresser would flick her fringe out of her eyes and, with a flash of silver, begin trimming the hair of a man who had been getting the same haircut for as long as he’d lived. 

The innkeeper would settle behind her desk, flicking on the old television. Visitors were rare on Eroda, but somehow, she still had a business to run and time to kill. 

The fishermen headed to work, their heavy boots making the docks creak. Some wore gold earrings in one ear. Some looked too bored to care about any sort of accessory. Those were the ones that usually lived when the storms came in. Trade boats were the only things that docked in Eroda, and they were in and out as quickly as they could be. Though, you could not leave Eroda on an odd numbered day, just as you could not enter on an even numbered one, so most ships stayed a single night. 

Sometimes, ministers would walk the docks, and those were the only days that the Erodians would deviate from their daily musings, for if you were to see a minister out walking in the morning, you were to return home at once.

All in all, things in Eroda were quite normal. That is, until they weren’t. And those days, when strange and peculiar things happened, it was the unofficial rule for all Erodians to make the peculiarness go away, no matter how they figured to do it.

In all this routine and normalcy, not a single person paid any mind to the tall figure donning a diving helmet as he made his way through the winding streets, the glass bottles in his basket clinking almost menacingly. The Erodians never did. It was like he didn’t exist at all, and that was how they liked it. No one really wanted to associate with a Peculiar, even on a good day. Besides, Peculiars were far and few between, and that’s how Erodians preferred it.

The man with the helmet didn’t pay any attention to them, either, not to the inn door that never closed all the way, or to the people screeching as they hurried away from the minister, who was just trying to enjoy a morning walk. He didn’t pay attention to the bar, where some man was always getting thrown out for mentioning a pig. He didn’t attempt to stand up for himself as the children playing in the streets backed away, hurling whispered insults and rumors at his retreating back. He’d long since learned that there was no point in trying to interact with any of them - they wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say. They would reject his company, or in some cases, run screaming from the sight of him. Not to say it didn’t bother him, because it did, but today it bothered him just a little less because he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than hollow.

As the man started the trek up vast hills that covered the uninhabited part of Eroda, his mind drifted, as it so often did, to the moment it had all started - the very moment that he’d been singled out. Though, if he were honest with himself, he’d been Peculiar since the day he was born, but he had no family to attest to that. 

He’d been about eleven or twelve, or at least, that’s what he figured. He didn’t know when he’d been born. What he did know was that he’d lived in the orphanage since his earliest discernable memory - which was strange in it of itself, for he was sure he’d had a life before the orphanage, but he had never been able to recall it - and that a woman there had told him the three words that would come to ruin his life. 

_“You’re a Peculiar.”_

_Her voice was wary, and she was standing a few feet away, as though the little boy before her would cause her harm if she came any closer. The little boy felt confused. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with him, but the way the nice lady said that word -_ Peculiar _\- didn’t sound like it was meant to be a compliment._

_“What do you mean, Miss?” he asked politely, giving her a smile. She shrank back from him, shielding her eyes for a moment._

_“You’re not like the other children. You don’t fit in with them, or with us. You’re … different.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_He tried to move towards her, to comfort himself with contact, but she moved even further away, and he stopped moving, feeling a pain somewhere in his chest._

_“You can’t spend time with the other children. It’s not safe for them to be exposed to you, whatever your problem is. We’re sending you away.”_

That had been it. He’d moved into the inn the next week, and he knew it was bad, because if an orphanage kicked out an orphan, something had to be wrong with them, right? 

But he hadn’t let that discourage him, because he didn’t have to live with other kids or be friends with other kids. 

But the other kids didn’t like him either. Every time he’d approach them to play, they would scatter, acting like he’d burned them in some way, but he was just trying to be friendly. He just wanted a friend. 

As the years passed, things only became worse. Every time he would venture out into the town, doors would close, umbrellas would go up, and people would give him a wide berth, as though he had some sort of transmittable disease. It didn’t make sense, but somewhere along the way, he stopped trying. He’d smile, just trying to be friendly and hopefully gain some kindness in return, but horrible things would happen. So he stopped that too. He trapped everything inside his own mind and let it stew, all the resentment and the confusion and the pain. He’d even picked up a diver’s helmet from the beaches on the far side of the island, and once he’d put it on, he didn’t really want to take it off. No one wanted to see his face anyway, so what was the point?

His helmet wasn’t the only thing he kept on, however. He’d long since bothered dressing nicely - he’d donned the same dark wool coat and trousers for many years now, and on the middle finger of his right hand, he had a simple silver ring. He’d had it for as long as he could remember. It had once hung around a chain on his neck, but as he grew older, it had come to fit his finger perfectly. It was the only thing he had that connected him to his past, whatever his past was. When he touched it, he had this strange aching in his head, but it was coupled with a warm feeling, like he was sitting outside in the sunlight. But there weren’t sunny days on Eroda. Never once had he seen the sun in all its glory. And he never would.

His life wasn’t completely full of nothing, however. He had begun his research about a year after the orphanage had kicked him out. Before he had lived on his own, he’d had access to the library in the orphanage, and he’d often read to keep himself occupied during the day. And while he read, he took in everything. All the strange little details that seemed easily brushed away, but didn’t add up in his head. And then when he was alone, books were his only comfort. And that’s when he’d realized - something very strange was going on. 

He read book after book, borrowing them from the small Erodian library. The owner was too afraid of him to stop him from taking the books, and for once, he used his status as a Peculiar to his advantage, reading up and investigating until he built a solid case for his theories. 

But, eventually, as he should have suspected, he ran out of options. He’d read every book again and again, and he’d finally come to a dead end. There was nothing more to be gained, and no matter how determined he was to get to the bottom of the mystery he had seemingly uncovered, there was nothing left. Which meant that his entire life had become a waste. He had no other way out, except this. 

He reached the summit of the hill, his mind still reeling, and looked out over the majority of Eroda, which was spread out before him in a crescent shape, but he thought it looked more like a frown. The tall grass blew in the constant wind, and the water crashed against the rocky beaches below. He could see the people going about their days. The people who’d made his life miserable. But he didn’t feel anger towards them, not in the slightest. He only felt disappointment, and it was directed at himself. He should have read more. He should have asked more people, even when he got no answers in return. He should have been more persistent. But it was no use now. 

He found his usual haunt - an outcropping of rock with a small, very worn wooden bench. It was more like a fallen tree, but there weren’t many trees in Eroda. This was one of the only ones. 

He settled down there, taking off his helmet and staring at the inside, where he’d scratched his name when he was about 13. He let his fingers trace over the letters - H A R R Y - and set it down next to the bench. 

Harry felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as he looked once again across the expanse of the island. He was scared. Would anyone remember his name, or would he just be five letters scratched into the metal of an old helmet, abandoned at the highest point?

He shuffled things around for a second and pulled out another jar. He had ten already, and this was the final one. He unscrewed the top, letting all of his feelings bubble up to the surface. He put his mouth to the opening and let it out, screaming his feelings into oblivion and slamming the lid onto the jar, bottling it up once and for all. Out one bottle and into the other, he’d told himself when he’d started this tradition nearly ten years ago. 

Feeling a tear tracing his cheek, Harry brushed it away furiously, placing the basket of glass jars underneath the bench. He wouldn’t need them now. He’d come up here for one reason and one reason only, and that was to say goodbye. He wasn’t going to back out, not now. It wasn’t like he had anything worth sticking around for. His life was pointless. No one would miss him.

Harry stood, picking up his diving helmet and he began his walk down the rocky path that led to the beach. He refused to turn back - he knew if he would, he wouldn’t go through with this, and he had to. He _had_ to. It was his only option now. He knew he wouldn’t be stopped by anyone - no one ever went to this beach if they could help it. There was a reason for that, and that’s why Harry had chosen this spot. He figured why not carry on the tradition of all the Peculiars to come before him?

On his way down, he wondered if any of the other Peculiars had done what he’d done. If any of them had searched and searched for a way out of the life they’d been given, hoping against hope that there would be another option other than the one they’d taken. He wondered if they’d all come to the end, just like him. He wondered if they’d faced it bravely, because he wasn’t sure he could.

It took him no time at all to reach the bottom as he knew these trails by heart, but even so, as he walked, all nerves of what he was about to do had collected in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t feel empty like he’d wanted. He felt too much, and he just hoped he could go through with this. 

His helmet thudded softly into the gray sand, and he knelt down, digging around for the rough stones that littered the beaches. If he couldn’t do it by sheer force of will, they would help it along. For each stone he placed in his pockets, he said goodbye. 

Goodbye to the owner of the orphanage who had abandoned him. 

Goodbye to the innkeeper, who had left him to learn how to cook and do laundry and live. 

Goodbye to the kids who ran screaming at the mere sight of him.

Goodbye to the grass, which was his only company.

Goodbye to the fishermen, who would never sell him a single fish.

Goodbye to the headaches, which always came at inopportune times and never yielded any information.

Goodbye to his research, which would go unnoticed.

Goodbye to the mystery of Eroda, which would go unsolved.

Goodbye, to the world.

Harry figured he had enough, and the water was cold and stung his skin through his clothes, but he didn’t care. He relished the cold, because at least he could feel that, and it was unforgiving. Already his legs were going numb. 

As he waded deeper into the water, the small waves lapping at his thighs, he thought back to his room at the inn. He thought back to the wall covered in pictures and copious notes written in his own cramped handwriting, of legends and stories and faces to names that no one dared mention in Eroda, but that filled Harry with a small sense of happiness - he hadn’t been completely alone. Life hadn’t been so bad in those moments of sudden breakthroughs and reorganizing and rereading. But the dead ends continued to arise, and if this was what life was going to be like forever, he wasn’t sure he wanted to live it. He had to leave it behind, and join his fellow Peculiars. It was where he belonged, after all. 

He let his eyes close, feeling the chilly water around his waist now. He could hear the distant sound of a lone bird calling for a mate, for a friend. This was a nice way to go, pretending like everything was going to be better than what he was leaving behind, but even he couldn’t know what came next. He just knew that there was nothing left for him here. It was time.

The water hit his chest, the waves becoming harsher as he waded further and further out. He could almost imagine each wave pushing against him, telling him to turn back, to look at everything just one more time. Maybe it was a sign? But Harry wasn’t sure he believed in signs anymore. He’d waited too long for something along the way to tell him which direction to go, and in the end, it had all pointed here, to this moment. He had no other choice. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath - his last breath.

A deep booming sound echoed throughout the cove, bouncing off the walls of rock and penetrating the fog that was starting to creep in. Harry’s eyes snapped open and he stopped where he was, every part of his body vibrating. That bell hadn’t been rung in years, or so the legends said. That was the bell to signal that a Peculiar had been found.

Harry looked down at the dirty water, at the fish swimming lazily in the waves, and then looked over his shoulder, as though he might be able to see through the hill that he’d climbed just moments ago, it seemed. He didn’t know what to do - in this moment, it seemed like he was out of options, but that bell had to be the sign he was waiting for. There could be no other explanation for it. But if there was another Peculiar here, another person that was like him, maybe his research and his purpose weren’t for nothing. Maybe, just maybe, he would get the answers he needed, which was his only other escape from his miserable existence thus far. 

And just like that, he found himself struggling back to the shore, water dripping from his clothes as he reached the sand, finally feeling something firm under his feet. Thoughts of what he’d been about to do still whirled in his mind, but his body was on a mission. He scooped up his helmet, tucking it under his arm, and made his way to the path that would take him back the way he’d come, back to sadness and isolation and general misery, but this time, something burned in him. The fire that had gone out so long ago was rekindled. He just hoped whoever, or whatever, had caused the ringing of that bell was worth staying alive for. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>


	2. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part 1 - enjoy!

_In a land most Peculiar,_

_The end was near, so close and yet so far._

_Though the waves, loud and rough,_

_Preserved not one life, but two_

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

As Harry neared the edge of the small settlement, he tugged his helmet back over his face, not wanting to be distracted by the stares of other Erodians, but he needn’t have worried - the streets were deserted. He had never before seen the streets so empty, but as he hurried past abandoned shops and carts and toys, he realized why that must be. 

He’d been told that he was the first Peculiar on the island in a very long time, and no one had rung that bell since the day he’d appeared. That could only mean that another Peculiar, or something along those lines, was on this very beach, which meant that naturally, the Erodians would have to be there to pass judgement. Sometimes, Erodians got lost at sea and returned, in which case, the town would have celebrations to last whole weeks as they welcomed back one of their own. But in the case of Harry, and those Peculiars before him, they’d been pushed aside like bad fish. None of that, however, kept the Erodians from being nosy, and as he reached the docks, he was met by a crowd of people. 

His shoulders automatically hunched, feeling the weight of their hatred even when he couldn’t be seen. But his curiosity had the better of him. He needed to know why the bell had been rung. His heart pounded, almost like it was working overtime to keep him alive, and once the Erodians caught sight of him, he had no problem making it to the front of the crowd. They parted like a sea, desperate to keep as far from him as possible, as though they’d catch whatever disease made him who or what he was. 

He recognized some of them. Scurrying away to his left were several girls with strange hair like badly formed pretzels, their faces masks of terror. To his right was the painting woman - he had never found out her name - who spent her days creating scenes on canvas, blocking out the rest of Eroda, even though they were her people. He’d have liked to befriend her, but she’d ignored him like the others. And there in front of him was the minister, straightening his white collar and being jostled by the same women and men who had run from him just that morning. Apparently, keeping away from Harry was more important to them than staying away from the minister. They all stared at him as he passed, having no choice but to watch him. After years of wanting just one person to look at him, to acknowledge that he indeed existed, Harry wasn’t sure he liked the attention after all. 

Reaching the edge of the docks, Harry didn’t hesitate to jump down to the sand, his feet making the softest of thumps against the wet grains. Whatever the bell had been rung for, it was clearly at the edge of the water, as no one was venturing further than the creaking wood of the docks. 

And then Harry saw it, or rather, them. A lone figure was curled up on the sand, the waves just barely brushing them as they shivered. They’d obviously washed up with the tide. Making his way carefully towards them, Harry knelt down and put a hand on their shoulder. The figure jumped violently and tried to pull away from Harry’s touch, and his - for now Harry could see that the figure was most definitely male - wild eyes seemed to bore through the cracked glass of Harry’s helmet. It was clear that, whoever he was, he was terrified, and Harry was positive that the daunting helmet and his soaking wet clothes weren’t offering much comfort, not that there was comfort to offer in a place like Eroda. 

“Wh-what are you doing? Take your hands off me, I … I’m not the only one. We’ll fucking fight, you hear me?” 

The man’s voice had a heavy accent, one not unlike that of an Erodian, but there was something different and familiar about it that Harry couldn’t quite place. His temples ached with a sudden, sharp pain, but Harry ignored it. The man sounded strained, as though he’d been yelling for days, but he seemed mighty determined, despite the fact that he didn’t look like he could keep his head up, much less fight Harry and a crowd of confused Erodians. 

“There’s no one else. Just you,” Harry said, his voice muffled from inside the helmet, and the man shuddered, pushing himself further away. Harry didn’t bother to follow him with his touch as his heart sank, thudding back in its normal, slow, sad rhythm.

The man looked around, seeing the crowd and the gray sky and the even grayer water, and his eyes filled with sudden tears as his eyes landed on Harry again. “Please don’t hurt me. I was just … just looking for …” He trailed off, his eyes glazing over, and he slumped over in the sand, completely motionless. The sea wind whistled through the air, carrying with it the man’s pleading and his final words before his descent into unconsciousness. Harry looked over his shoulder, seeing the Erodians back away, muttering and shielding their children.

“There’s another one!”

“Keep the kids away, Edward, it’s not safe.”

“Let ‘em both rot, that’s what I’d do.”

“Bloody Peculiars - they’ll be the ruin of all we’ve built!”

“Should we take them to the prison?”

Harry shook his head, looking away from them and down at the unconscious man before him. He felt drawn to him, and maybe it was because he’d finally found someone that was like him, but he didn’t think so. Something else was at work here.

“He needs help,” Harry called to them, but at the sound of his voice, which was even rarer to the townspeople than the sight of him on their streets these days, had people scattering, hurrying back to their homes and their businesses and their everyday activities, making sure that they wouldn’t be seen interacting with a Peculiar, let alone helping one.

As their voices faded, Harry turned once again to the man, realizing that he, Harry, was this person’s only hope for survival at this point. He let his fingers trail carefully inches above the man’s skin and clothes, looking for injuries. He didn’t want to move him if he was seriously injured. 

He could see just by his quick observations that the man was well built, though small in stature, and his skin was tanned bronze, as though he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. Harry tried to ignore the small flare of want and jealousy blooming in his chest over something so small and seemingly insignificant. The man’s fist was wrapped tightly around something, and not even his unconsciousness was loosening his grip. It was peculiar, for want of a better word, but it fascinated Harry. He needed to know more. He needed the man to wake up. Maybe he had the answers to every question Harry had ever asked. Maybe this man could help him escape like no other Peculiar had ever been able to do. 

Harry shifted the man until he was positioned carefully in his arms, and stood slowly, cradling him to his chest like a newborn. He didn’t have to worry about anyone stopping him in the streets - the Erodians had all gone back to their everyday routines, ignoring his very existence. For some reason, it didn’t feel as painful as it had just a few short hours ago.

Making his way carefully towards the small hospital, Harry nudged the door open with his shoulder and made his way through the main waiting room. People hissed at him, going as far as pulling their feet off the ground so as not to have contact with the carpet at the same time as him. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, reaching the desk. 

“He needs help,” he said slowly, repeating his words from before. The secretary flinched, but otherwise didn’t seem phased by Harry’s presence. He supposed she’d seen many Peculiars come and go, if the deep set wrinkles on her face and hands were anything to judge by, and found it just part of her job to have minimal interaction with them. 

Soon enough, a team of three nurses, all dressed in white gowns, appeared with a rickety stretcher, and took the man unceremoniously from Harry’s arms. Harry almost missed his weight as they positioned him. As they wheeled him away, his arm flopped over the side of the table and his hand unclenched. Something shiny hit the floor with the lightest sound, and Harry moved forward to retrieve it before the doors closed on him. He slipped it into his pocket and turned back to the secretary. 

“Can I stay?”

She looked up from her work briefly, shaking her head. “No. You must leave. You’re upsetting the other patients.”

Harry bit back a retort that he longed to throw at her, knowing it was no use anyway, but he didn’t want to leave, no matter how the other Erodians felt about him. He felt a strong need to stay, to make sure that this man, this Peculiar, survived. 

But the insults were becoming louder, the shudders of terror and disgust more pronounced, and Harry tasted bile in his mouth. He left as quickly as he had come, making his way through the back alleys so as not to be seen. He’d had enough of people for one day.

Sneaking in the back door of the inn - the innkeeper let him stay, but didn’t want to see him in her lobby area, in case he scared off any business, but who was she kidding? There was never any business - he made his way up six flights of creaking, rotting stairs until he reached his own door. The paint was peeling and the door knob was loose, but it was home. 

Harry stepped into his room, closing the door behind him. He pulled at his jacket and pants, only just now noticing how cold he was. He stripped down and pulled on new undergarments and a shirt, feeling strangely better in these clean clothes. It was almost as if the clothes washed away all that had happened today - all he’d been about to do, and all he’d been prevented from doing. 

He flopped down onto his bed. It creaked and bounced, and he rolled over onto his back, staring at the stained ceiling for far too long. His mind was racing, but he felt less the pain of the emotions he’d been through today, and more the excitement and curiosity of this new entity in his life. Something strange was going on here, he was sure of it. Never before had he felt any kind of attraction to another human being. No one had ever wanted to be near him, or taken comfort in his touch, or so much as believed he was anything other than what he’d been labeled. No one had ever asked if he needed help, or if he wanted a friend, or if he felt okay. But this connection, this tugging at the center of his gut, was brand new and real, so real that Harry put a hand over his belly, as though he could physically touch what was going on inside him.

It was strange, however, that he felt this kind of pull towards this man, because the man had reacted as most people had done all his life - like he was something to fear instead of someone to trust. And yet Harry had seen something in the man’s eyes, almost like recognition, and that moment was fueling him, making him feel more alive than any person or thing had done in all the years he’d lived this desperate, distorted life.

Harry sat up then, moving aside the small set of drawers. The television on top wobbled precariously, and a few remaining glass jars clanked against the ordinary glass lamp. Behind it all was a section of wall where the old-fashioned wallpaper had begun to peel away. He’d needed somewhere to keep his research, so he’d worked at it for weeks until it had mostly peeled away from the entire wall, and started his work. After years, he still kept the destroyed wallpaper held up by a tack in the corner, just in case the innkeeper decided to make rounds for once. He removed the tack and peeled the paper back, revealing a complicated collection of papers, strings, and photographs, all faded with time.

His fingers followed the string, ghosting over faces and names that he’d had memorized for years, all leading to the one thing, the one idea, that Harry swore he’d never entertain. He drummed his fingers on the picture. He’d torn it out of a children’s book, but the name of the forgotten island had been burned off. He only knew it as just that - the forgotten island, the one no Erodian dared speak of. 

Remembering suddenly, he reached for his wet wool jacket and pulled out the thing he’d picked up at the hospital. Unfolding his fist, he saw a gold ring on a gold chain, coiled in his palm. He stared at it for a long while, the gold contrasting against the silver of his own ring. His head ached as though he was trying to remember something very important but couldn’t grasp it. But that couldn’t be right. He’d never been anywhere but Eroda. He’d never met anyone that had come from outside Eroda. Nothing special ever happened here - every day was the same, and this small trinket wasn’t going to change that. 

Nevertheless, he picked up a tack from the small jar on the dresser and pinned the chain to the wall, right next to the crude, childish drawing of the island. He felt like it belonged there, at least for now. He’d have to return it, eventually. That is, if this man ever wanted to see him again, or if he himself was brave enough to venture out.

Moving everything back into place, Harry lay back against his pillows once more and turned on the telly, where there was a story about a certain type of fish migrating into their waters. He sighed, letting it play on low volume. Maybe the senseless chatter would calm the storm of thoughts and half formed hopes running through his mind and allow him to sleep. Or maybe it would just cause more questions that didn’t have answers.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

  
  


The next few days were strange, which was not so uncommon in Eroda, but it was for Harry. His days were usually filled with a mounting feeling of despair, a darkness that had all but snuffed out any hope inside him, but now that feeling seemed to lessen. Harry had thrown himself back into research, reading and rereading every book and newspaper clipping he’d ever collected. He was determined to find something he’d missed, something that would lead him to the answers he was so desperately seeking. 

He made new lists, dictating every similarity between the Peculiars that had come before him, and he was now reading over it for the tenth time that morning. 

**Matt Darling - Peculiar; date of arrival June 1843; lived on Eroda for 5 years; drowned in a boating accident.**

**Bethany Radcliffe - Peculiar; date of arrival September 1895; lived on Eroda for 15 years; went cliff diving and never returned.**

**Toby McGuiness - Peculiar; date of arrival December 1941; lived on Eroda for 2 years; died from food poisoning**

**Jack Star - Peculiar, date of arrival January 1999; lived on Eroda for 7 years; disappeared under mysterious circumstances.**

There was only one connection he could make between all of them - it was obvious to him, but not to any Erodian who would even be looking at this type of research. They’d write it off, but Harry never had, because he’d felt the same desire that they’d all given into - none of them had wanted to live in the end, and one way or another, Harry was sure the Erodians had had a hand in their deaths. He could only imagine how long the people of Eroda had been torturing those who were different, himself included, and, for a brief moment, he felt a surge of determination that he hadn’t felt in a long time - the desire to prove them wrong and to live just to spite them. But was that any way to live at all?

It all came back to the ring, which was where he’d pinned it, the light glinting dully off it through the grimy window of the inn. Harry stood up, scattering papers, and picked it up, letting the metal warm to his body temperature as he held it in his hand. It reminded him of his ring, and he knew that he had to return it. This ring might be the one thing that could save that man from drowning in the darkness that was sure to come for him. Harry felt a responsibility to him, and that was what pushed him to pull on his clothes, finally fully dry from his near suicide, and don his helmet. He was going back to that hospital and he was going to demand to see the man until the nurse at the station let him, or until the other Erodians got so tired of his presence that they let him back just to keep him away from them. 

He made his way down the creaking stairs, the ring clutched in his hand, and had just made it to the back door when he heard the innkeeper talking. It was this alone that made him freeze - she never had anyone to talk to, because no one ever came.

Making his way quietly down the hallway towards the lobby, Harry peered around the corner, careful to keep his helmet from attracting too much light. He didn’t think it would be prudent to be caught staring or eavesdropping. He was already ridiculed enough. The man at the counter looked flustered and small in his ruined clothes, falling apart at the seams. His back was to Harry, but Harry felt the same strange pull that he’d experienced just a few days ago, and when the man turned to pull something from his pocket, Harry recognized the side profile. 

“Ma’am, I don’t have any … I mean … I’m terribly sorry,” he stuttered, his voice sounding a bit stronger than it had the other day. That eased Harry’s mind a bit - he was recovering, at least. 

“I can’t help you if you can’t pay,” the innkeeper said stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest. Harry could see a dull red flush working its way up the man’s neck, and he felt horrible, but he wasn’t surprised. This was how it always was with Peculiars, or at least it was what Harry had experienced. If the man had been Erodian, she would have given him the best room in the place, no charge, and fluffed his pillows just for good measure. 

“Please … I have nowhere else to go. I tried to leave, I did, but the boat, it … the sailors said today was a good day to travel.”

Harry could practically feel the innkeeper's smirk, and he felt a hot surge of anger. Today was an odd numbered day - the sailors would have known that this man couldn’t leave today, and yet they’d let him go anyway, even encouraged it. It was like he didn’t matter to any of them, dead or alive. It made Harry feel faintly sick. 

“I’m afraid, unless you have someone here you can stay with, you’ll have to leave.”

Harry knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t even think he was capable of such things, considering his history, but this man - he was like him. He was a Peculiar, and Harry needed him to stay. He knew it was selfish, but everyone here was so unjust and horrible that he only trusted himself to make sure this man didn’t get himself killed. At least, that’s what he was telling himself.

Without realizing what he was doing, he moved into the lobby, and heard a gasp from the innkeeper, even though she’d known him for years. The man turned to follow her gaze and his eyes widened.

“He can stay with me. I’ll get him a room.” Harry said slowly, making sure that the innkeeper couldn’t pretend to misunderstand him. She looked as shocked as the man did, but she handed over a key, trying hard not to keep eye contact with either of them. As Harry turned to leave, he distinctly heard her mutter a Peculiar slur, but he clenched his fist and walked away, hoping that the man was following him.

He could hear hurried footsteps behind him as he began to ascend the stairs, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t, not when he’d just put himself out there and done something as ridiculous as invite a stranger to stay in the only place he felt safe. He didn’t know this man, and him being a Peculiar didn’t change the fact that he might not be a nice person. If anything, he might only add to Harry’s seemingly impenetrable darkness. 

They reached Harry’s floor and Harry stopped, finally forcing himself to turn and face the man that had captivated him since his arrival. He seemed a bit out of breath, but his cheeks had a healthy flush that they’d not carried a few days ago, and he seemed more alert, his eyes brighter and his gaze steadier. 

“Thank you …” the man said with uncertainty, his eyes flickering from Harry’s helmet-covered face to the floor. Harry felt a confusing combination of emotions, but he didn’t have time to sort through them. 

“Peculiars aren’t safe here,” Harry said, but inside, he was kicking himself. He wasn’t trying to scare the man away - that was the last thing he wanted. But here he was, saying dumb shit like this. Something about this man made him feel completely safe and completely out of his element at the same time. He wasn’t sure he liked that, but at least the feelings were new. 

“Kinda got that …” the man said with a chuckle, and Harry felt his heart give a strange lurch in his chest. He didn’t know what to make of it, so he stood still, hoping it would go away and be replaced with something he understood. 

The silence stretched, where neither of them spoke, and Harry felt his throat becoming constricted by it. He wanted to say so many things, but he couldn’t force the words out. And at the same time, he wanted this man to just keep talking, because his voice sounded nice and that meant that Harry didn’t have to suffer through the agony of trying to find the right words to make this man not hate him like everyone else. 

“I’m Louis, by the way. Louis Tomlinson. If you … wanted to know, of course,” the man, Louis, finally said, breaking the silence so thoroughly that Harry almost heard it crack. His head was starting to throb again, his eyes actually hurting in their sockets. Why did that name sound so familiar? 

“I reckon I’ll just call you helmet guy, then?”

Harry didn’t have an answer. His head hurt. Louis’ voice was both soothing it and making it worse, and he wanted to get away. He just gave a jerk of his head and felt behind him for the door knob, slipping away into his room with Louis’ bright blue eyes following him. 

When the door was closed, Harry pulled the helmet off his head and threw it onto the bed. He slid down to the floor, clutching at his head, his back becoming plastered with bits of peeling paint. He didn’t know how he was doing it, but this Louis Tomlinson was messing with his mind. He was hurting him. But how could someone as beautiful and soft and kind as Louis Tomlinson make him feel such bad things? It didn’t make sense. But then again, nothing ever did. Even his research couldn’t offer him comfort at that moment. 

Harry dragged himself to his bed, pulling the threadbare blanket over his head and cloaking himself in darkness. He shut his eyes, hoping to just force himself to sleep, but Louis’ face loomed up before him, all curious eyes and soft skin and a small quirk of the thin lips that might have developed into a smile, had Harry let it. 

At this moment, exactly three days after saving Louis, three days where he hadn’t thought about how miserable his existence was, he was finally back where he started - he wanted this to end. He just wasn’t sure where to begin.

It was only later that he realized he hadn’t returned Louis’ ring, but instead of going across the hall to return it, he slipped it into his pocket. He was sure he’d find another time to give it back. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Harry spent all day the way he’d spent most days lately - poring over his notes and rearranging his wall. Even with the mystery that was Louis and his arrival, everything still seemed to lead back to that mysterious island that no one on Eroda knew the name of - or didn’t want to speak of. He’d pored over every book he owned, looking for anything that might clue him in, but there was nothing new among those pages. If anything, it was all too familiar, and was starting to lead him back down the path that he’d been on before. 

He read until it was so dark out, he could barely make out the shape of the book in front of him, let alone the words on the page, and then collapsed against his pillows, falling asleep instantly. 

Harry usually slept through the night. He’d never had much of an issue with that, except when the nightmares came, but even when he woke, sweating and gasping for air, he didn’t remember a moment of them. Eroda went quiet at night - all the shop owners closed their businesses, all the kids abandoned their toys and turned in. All the parents made sure that their lights were turned off, so even if Harry had been awake, there would be nothing to see or hear other than the distant crash of the ocean against the shores. 

Tonight, however, was different. Harry found his eyes opening and he threw a glance at the repaired alarm clock to the right of his bed. The red numbers read 3:49 AM, and Harry groaned, throwing an arm over his face in a desperate attempt to get back to his dream. For once, it wasn’t a crushing nightmare, and he treasured the nights where his dreams took him away from his reality instead of forcing him further into it. 

He was almost asleep, grasping for the sun he had been sure was shining in his dreams, when he heard it. In fact, he wasn’t sure what he heard, but any sound at night was something to pay attention to, for no one was out or about in any sense. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, listening closely. And there it was again - a muffled thump and a shout, coming from across the hall. Harry’s body was awake in an instant, moving him towards the door and out into the hallway, his mind still trying to catch up to what he was hearing. 

It must have been Louis who made the sound. It couldn’t be anyone else. The owner lived on the ground floor, and in any case, Harry didn’t think he’d have bothered getting up otherwise. He still wasn’t quite sure why he’d had such a reaction to such minimal noise, but it was like his body was in tune with something that his mind couldn’t quite grasp. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to analyze himself. 

He knocked gently on the door, receiving no response. He tried again, and this time, he heard a sort of moan, like someone inside was in serious pain. His heart was suddenly in his throat, and he reached for the doorknob, just as warped and loose as his own. To his surprise, the door opened easily, and Harry found himself in Louis’ room. 

It was a disaster. The sheets were nearly torn off the bed, a twisted pile hanging over the edge. Pillows were everywhere, and on the floor in front of him was Louis, one leg still hooked in the bed coverings and his face contorted in obvious agony. 

Harry wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do here. He and Louis had only been on first name terms for less than 24 hours - not even, because Louis only knew him as “helmet guy” - but even so, Harry had this powerful urge to take Louis in his arms and kiss his face until he woke up. That thought alone made the color drain from his face, and he knelt down to his knees before realizing what he was doing. But now that he was this close, he found he couldn’t pull himself away. 

Louis was twitching in his sleep, his hands fumbling in the air as though he was trying to hold on to something, or someone. 

“No, no please! Don’t take him. You can’t take him, take me instead!” Louis cried suddenly, making Harry jump violently. His knee slammed into the dresser, which, in the darkness, Harry hadn’t seen until it was leaving a bruise on his tender skin. He bit his lip to keep from crying out and reached over gently, touching Louis’ shoulder lightly. 

“Louis? Can you hear me?” Harry whispered, his voice betraying how scared he was. Louis shook his head violently and suddenly his eyes were open, and he was staring at Harry, a mixture of relief and fear spreading across his features. His hand shot forward and gripped the front of Harry’s shirt and he nearly pulled himself into Harry’s lap. Harry sat there, stunned, unable to move.

“Harry. Harry, you have to run. They’re coming after you … wanna take you … won’t let …” Louis was babbling, completely unfocused, and Harry felt a vice grip around his heart. Louis’ voice was broken, terrified, but whatever demons he was facing, they were all in his head. There was nothing Harry could do. 

“You’re dreaming. You need to get back in bed. No one’s here,” Harry tried, but Louis shook his head, burrowing his face into Harry’s chest. 

“I knew I’d find you. Wanna take you home,” he mumbled, his breath warm through Harry’s shirt. Now Harry felt slightly sick, though his half-asleep mind was still trying to catch up to the situation. He lifted Louis into his arms, just as he’d done on the beach, and placed him back in bed, pulling the sheets back up to cover him and laying his head down on the replaced pillows. As soon as he was in the bed, Louis seemed to calm down. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hand, which had been holding Harry tightly, slackened at once. His breath was even. 

Harry swallowed back his fear and stood up, backing slowly away in case Louis started to freak out again, but he seemed pretty much asleep and safe now. Harry closed the door and made his way back to his own room, sitting on the edge of his bed and putting his aching head into his hands. 

Now that his brain had finally caught up, he had more questions than answers, and his temples were nearly bursting with the pain of it. 

He should have noticed it earlier, when he’d been talking to Louis in the hallway. He’d said something about Peculiars, and it had been so offhand that he hadn’t realized that an outsider wouldn’t have known what he meant. But Louis had responded in a way that suggested he knew exactly what Harry meant, and he’d only been on Eroda for a few days. Harry wouldn’t have noticed then, or possibly ever, but now? It seemed so obvious to him. 

And then there was tonight. He slept like the dead - nothing and no one could wake him, not once he was caught in the thrall of his dreams. But he’d heard the noise, or felt that something was wrong, or whatever had happened. He’d gone to Louis without a second thought, as though he’d done it a million times before, and, to top the list of strange things he was starting to compile in his head, Louis had known his name. He’d recognized him and said his name, though Harry had most definitely not told it to him. 

Then again, it could have been a coincidence, as things often happened to be when someone expressed anything other than horror at Harry’s existence. Louis could have been dreaming about someone else named Harry, someone that came from wherever he’d come from, but it hadn’t felt like that. Louis had said his name with intent, as though he’d known exactly who he was talking to, and they had a history. Harry, however, had been wearing his helmet the two times they’d spoken, and he suddenly felt horribly exposed. How could this stranger, this perfect stranger who had this ... _hold_ on him, know who he was? He had no family, no friends, no one who cared who he was or what happened to him. But Louis did. Louis knew him, and Harry had to find out how. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Harry woke to the sound of a strong wind, which was carrying the sound of the fishermen down on the docks all the way up to his tiny, grimy window. It had been raining for days, but it seemed that it had finally let up. He cracked one eye open, blinking sluggishly as he tried to bring himself round from his sleep. 

He hadn’t stopped thinking about what had happened with Louis since that night. He continued to run over the events of that night - going to Louis, Louis talking to him, seeing his face, and everything he’d been mulling over after their encounter. He’d thought maybe Louis would come to him the day after, but it seemed that either Louis didn’t remember it, or he didn’t care. _Or he was gone,_ Harry thought to himself, and despite his best efforts to control whatever was going on inside him as a result of Louis coming into his life, his heart fell. 

Harry stood up and, for the first time in days, pulled on clothes. He wanted to do something, anything. He wanted to check on Louis, if he was even still there. He wanted to just be out of his room. Maybe he’d go to the library, even though he had about 30% of their books within the four walls of his room, but maybe focusing on something like his research would keep him from obsessing over Louis.

He’d almost made it to the door when a blinding pain shot through his head. He gasped and stumbled, leaning heavily against the door he’d just been about to open. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the pain away, and slowly, very slowly, it began to recede. He was breathing heavily, as though he’d just climbed up into the hills. All thoughts of seeing Louis were suddenly gone, as he remembered the last time he’d done just that. He remembered where his head had been, how dark and apathetic his thoughts had been, and how much had changed just in the last few days - ever since Louis had arrived. But Louis being here hadn’t turned those thoughts off, it had just dampened them. He could still feel them, a roiling mess inside his head and his stomach. He just wanted to yell, to scream until it was all out of his system. 

And that was when he decided. He’d thought that the last time he’d gone up into the hills was going to be the last thing he ever did, and yet here he was. His jars were still up there. It was still his safe place, the place that no one could see him or hurl horrible words at him. But it was also the place where he’d decided to end his life. The conflicting feelings battled in his mind, even as he grabbed a few glass jars from his small collection under his bed and settled his helmet over his head. He just needed to get away. Just for a little. 

His walk through the town was the same as it always was - people pulled their children inside, teenagers jeered at him and threw things, and adults went as far as crossing the street and climbing fences into alleys to get away from him. Harry swallowed hard and kept his head down, his steps becoming faster as he reached the furthest point of civilization. The painting lady had moved out here today - she was sitting at the very edge of town, looking out at the rippling grass and the ever-stormy sky. As he passed, she looked up at him. And, strangely, she didn’t immediately pack up and leave. In fact, she kept her eyes on Harry, watching him as he passed, and when Harry looked back for the briefest of moments, she was painting away, seeming to have been inspired. 

By the time Harry reached the peak, the red shirt he had thrown on was sticking to him uncomfortably. His breaths were fogging up the inside of his helmet, and he lifted it slightly, breathing in the salty sea air and the smell of dying grass. He considered taking it off - he always felt a bit more himself up here, a bit less restricted, but it had become sort of a security blanket for him, and right now, he wasn’t feeling particularly courageous. 

Harry made his way to the singular wooden seat and sat down hard, placing the empty jar next to him on the weather-worn surface. He reached underneath him and, sure enough, his hands touched wood and rope, and he pulled out his other jars, the glass clinking softly. 

Sitting there, staring at it, he felt tears prick in his eyes. These jars represented so much, and he thought he’d escaped it. He had been on his way to end his life. And it would have happened, if not for Louis. And that there was an entirely different issue. He’d put all his hope in Louis, had trusted that his existence here on Eroda would give him the answers he desired, even in his - almost - last moments. But if these last few days had told him anything, it was that things were just as confusing as they had been. And he was back here, in this place, wishing that he’d just gone through with everything in the first place. It would have saved him a lot of useless feelings, and it would have saved the world from having someone like him in it. 

The grass rustled as a particularly strong gust of wind swept over the hills, and the ocean crashed against the rocks far below him. It sounded almost as if it were inviting him back down. 

Harry could feel his tears dripping off his chin and onto his hands, and he finally lifted his helmet off, dropping it to the ground and wiping at his eyes furiously. He hadn’t come up here to think about this. He’d come up to escape it, and that was exactly what he was going to do. 

He stood up, stripping off the red shirt, so he was only left with a white shirt and his patterned trousers, and he straightened his back, looking out over everything with nothing obscuring his vision. As horrible as his life had been on Eroda thus far, he couldn’t deny that it was beautiful in a way. The water stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the grass smelled like nature, powering down the smell of fish that permeated the town. Up here, it felt like there was an entire world out there. He didn’t feel boxed in by the four dirty walls of his room, or the sides of his helmet. He didn’t feel surrounded by hatred. He held his arms out wide, feeling the wind ripple through the thin fabric of his shirt, making his hair lift off his forehead. He almost felt free. 

“Fancy seeing you all the way up here, eh?”

Harry froze, his entire body rigid at the sound of that voice, of Louis’ voice. He felt relief - Louis hadn’t left after all, but he also felt fear. His helmet was too far away - he couldn’t reach it. But he couldn’t just stand there and pretend that he hadn’t heard - they were the only two up here, that much he knew for sure. No one else would have to see. 

He slowly turned around, watching as Louis came closer and closer, until he was close enough for Harry to see the blue of his eyes. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. Briefly, his mind flashed back a few nights ago, and he remembered the terror in Louis’ voice, the way he’d said his name … 

“You’re not wearing your helmet.” Louis’ words were gentle, just a statement, not an accusation, but Harry felt that same dread of exposure he’d felt the night before. Except this time, Louis was awake.

“Been a bit, hasn’t it? How’s things?” Louis asked, cocking his head slightly as Harry still didn’t move. Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, his heart doing a funky little flip in his chest. Louis was still standing there watching him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not much of a talker, then?”

Harry wanted to answer, he really did, but his mind was otherwise occupied with the realization that Louis didn’t remember a thing about the night before. He was acting like they hadn’t seen each other since that first meeting in the hallway, and he hadn’t used Harry’s name. Harry’s hope, the little he’d allowed himself to cling to, disappeared, and he felt suddenly weary as the darkness that the hope had been holding at bay crashed over him. 

Harry sat down hard on the wooden bench, desperately wishing he’d yelled into the jar before Louis had arrived. It was too much - everything was too much. This is why he never allowed himself to hope - it only ended in tragedy and shattered dreams. 

“Hey … you alright?” Louis’ voice was close to him, and it was then that Harry realized that Louis had taken a seat next to him. 

“Fine,” Harry mumbled, hoping it would make Louis go away. But he also didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. 

He felt a hand on his arm and stiffened immediately, not used to being touched in any way, but especially in a way as gentle as this. He found himself looking up into Louis’ face. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. I know we’re not … I mean, we don’t really - fuck, I don’t even know your name, but I don’t like seeing people upset. If you wanted to tell me, you could, that’s all.” Louis spoke quickly, his accent becoming just slightly more pronounced, and Harry felt again that pulling sensation, like he was meant to be close to Louis. Like they were supposed to know each other. But it was gone just as fast as it had come, and Harry turned away again. 

Louis stood abruptly then, and his hand left Harry’s arm. Harry immediately missed the contact. “I can go, if you want. I’m sorry, I just … I saw you coming up here and I don’t know anyone and you’re the only person who’s treated me like a human being instead of a parasite.” Louis took a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’ll leave you be, I’m sorry.”

“Wait, please …” Harry forced the words out, refusing to be held back by his inability to put his feelings into words. Louis was here, and he was like Harry - a Peculiar. It was the first time Harry had ever felt like he wasn’t alone, and he’d be damned if he lost that. Louis turned back, and Harry stood up then, putting them on even footing. “I’m not … not used to it.”

“To what?”  
  


“To this. To talking and … being approached.” Harry fiddled with his hands, turning his ring around his finger. “I’m not normal, not to them.”

Louis, to his surprise, smiled then, and came back towards him. “Looks like we’ve got something in common, then.”

Harry found his lips turning up at that, almost a smile. He had stopped smiling years ago, too many to count. Nothing had ever made him happy, but here Louis was. It was … different. A good different. 

“Can I sit with you?” Louis asked then, and Harry nodded, joining him on the wooden bench. His foot nudged against his glass jars, and Louis looked around. 

“What are those?” he asked curiously, and Harry, strangely, wanted to tell him. He tried to come up with an explanation that didn’t make him sound crazy. 

“They’re … I get overwhelmed sometimes. I need to let it out. And I don’t want it to come back, so I trap it,” he said slowly, mulling over the words as they tumbled from his lips. It felt strange to be talking, especially about himself. He felt like an idiot, but Louis wasn’t running from him in terror. In fact, it was quite the opposite. 

“Wonder why I never thought of that,” Louis mused, shooting a smile Harry’s way. Harry shrugged, not sure what else to do or say. He had so many questions, he wasn’t sure where to start, and he was still debating whether to ask Louis about _that night._

They sat in silence for a short while, the sounds of Eroda surrounding them as they sat there, but Harry’s curiosity was, for once, getting the better of him. He felt almost like his old self again, just for a moment. 

“Why did you come here?” Harry asked, and he winced as his voice came out flat. He really did want to know, but he was still getting used to this talking thing. No one had ever asked him any questions, other than when he was going to get on with it and rid the world of himself, and it was strange. It was like someone had lit a match in a dark room, and instead of burning out, it was burning brighter. 

Louis’ face, which had been watching him with genuine interest, suddenly turned confused and distant. “I’m … not sure. I know I was looking for something …” His voice trailed off, but then his smile was back. “Maybe this place is what I was looking for all along.”

Harry highly doubted that anyone would voluntarily come to Eroda - as it was, Louis had seemed downright terrified the day Harry had rescued him. But then again, Harry wasn’t one for optimism. Maybe Louis was. Somehow, Harry didn’t think so, but he wasn’t sure that was what Louis wanted to hear. 

“Maybe,” Harry said, finally deciding that that was the right thing to say. 

“But what about you?” Louis asked, and Harry shuffled in his seat, his fingers going for his ring again. Nervous habit, he supposed. He hadn’t really noticed it before. Louis watched him, his eyes darting from Harry’s hands to his face. 

“What do you want to know?” Harry countered, his walls coming back up, ready for a question that would send him into some sort of panic attack. 

“Well, a name, for starters. I don’t think I can keep calling you ‘helmet guy’ forever, can I? Especially now I’ve seen your face.” Louis said, and Harry could hear the laughter in his voice. Louis was so cheerful, so alive - he reminded Harry of something, almost like a distant memory of sunlight. 

“Umm … I …” Harry stuttered, and Louis put his hands up in defence. 

“You don’t have to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. I just figured you knew mine, so …”

Harry shook his head, swallowing down his ever-present fear. He really hoped it wasn’t showing on his face, and wished longingly that he’d thought to keep his helmet on. “My name’s Harry.”

The moment that five letter word had left his mouth, he saw an immediate change in Louis. Louis had sat up straight on the bench, his hands clenching his knees so hard that his knuckles were turning white. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Harry, and for a moment, Harry was certain that he’d been wrong, that Louis really did remember the night before and he was about to reveal everything. But a moment later, Louis was rubbing at the sides of his head, his eyes closed. 

“Fuck, headache. Sorry, Harry.” He opened his eyes again, and that flicker of recognition Harry could have sworn he saw was replaced with general curiosity. “It’s a nice name.”

Harry’s last sliver of hope vanished as Louis said these words, but his despair was coupled with curiosity. He’d have to come back to his half formed thought later. 

“So … are we going to scream into jars, or not?” Louis asked, and Harry just stared at him, wondering if he was taking the piss. It didn’t seem so, however, because Louis looked under the bench and around them, searching with his eyes for a jar. Harry felt a small smile creep onto his face, his muscles seeming to strain with the effort, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out the extra jars he’d brought with him. 

“I … I’ve never told anyone about it,” Harry said then, half hoping that Louis would just run from him now, so he wouldn’t have time to ruin the one good thing that had happened in his life - meeting someone like Louis. But Louis just stood there, looking up at Harry with those ever-familiar blue eyes, and Harry couldn’t say no to him. He held out the extra jar he’d brought. 

Louis took it, turning it over in his hand, and then sat down on the bench, waiting. Harry took a seat next to him and pulled out the other jar, fiddling with it. Now that there was someone was here with him, watching him, expecting something of him, he felt quite self-conscious, and he pressed his lips together, glancing over at Louis and looking quickly away.

The silence between them stretched on, and Harry’s hands started shaking. He needed to let it out, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want his new friend to see him that vulnerable. He didn’t know what to do. 

Harry felt a knee press against his and he finally looked up from his hands and into Louis’ face. “Harry. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I just thought maybe you’d want a friend, someone who would share the experience with you. But if you don’t, that’s alright too. I can go and let you do … whatever it is you do when you’re alone.” Louis stood up then, offering the jar back to Harry. Harry reluctantly reached out and took it, but his mouth, having become used to speaking in the last few minutes, or hours, or however long they’d been up here, spoke words before he could even think them. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be alone.”

Harry wasn’t even sure what he meant by that, or what he truly wanted in this moment, but Louis seemed to understand perfectly. He nodded and backed up a few paces, a smile still present on his face. Harry had never met anyone like him, someone who was perpetually happy. He reminded him of himself when he was younger, before everything had gone to shit. 

“I’ll meet you in town, yeah? We need to eat, or at least, I do. I’m fucking starving. I was thinking of trying that pub? I’m sure you know the one. Or do they not let Peculiars in?” Louis’ face fell slightly at the thought, but Harry shook his head. 

“They do, but the other patrons don’t like it so much. The person who once owned the bar was a Peculiar herself. I think the new owners feel bad for people like us. That’s where I get most of my food - the owner’s son, Peter, leaves the extras out back for me.”

Again, Harry felt strange admitting things like this to Louis. It had never been like him to share his life with someone, but then again, he’d never had anyone who was willing to listen, either. 

“Well, then I’ll be there in an hour or two. I’ll meet you.”

With that, Louis gave him a small wave and turned away, walking off into a sea of grass until he’d all but disappeared. Harry sat there, two jars in his hands, stunned. His desperation to scream his pain to the world, somehow, had disappeared. He didn’t feel like he was being crushed; rather, he felt like he was clawing his way out of a pit, and he’d finally located the light at the top. He tucked the empty jars under the bench, leaving them with the ones already filled. He’d leave that for another day. 

He stood there, letting the strange warmth of the day press on him from all sides, and when he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was standing in sunlight. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, and the mere fact that he could still smile, even after everything, made him feel better than ever. The darkness was lifting, ever so slightly. He was no longer alone. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

The Fisherman’s Pub was loud and crowded, as it usually was, and as Harry approached, he felt his usual sense of dread that accompanied being in Eroda creeping back into his mind and his body. He’d put his helmet back on- having Louis see his face had been an accident, albeit a nice one, but he was most definitely not prepared to start showing it to other people - but even being near this many people made him feel more exposed than usual. 

But there Louis was, standing outside the pub, looking like the brightest star on a pitch black night. His brilliance was, surely, made much more unrealistic in Harry’s mind, but everything about Louis was bright. 

Louis looked up as Harry approached, but instead of running as the three people standing next to him did, he smiled, and Harry again felt that sense of lightness that he’d mulled over for ages on top of the hills. 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go in or not. I know you usually just … keep to yourself.”

Louis’ consideration of Harry and his needs was completely overwhelming and the exact opposite of what Harry had grown used to from his fellow townspeople. For a brief moment, however, Harry thought about going in. He imagined what it would be like to have a meal in a warm, mostly friendly environment with Louis across the table from him. He thought about the food being fresh instead of hours old. He didn’t mind either way - at least it was food - but a change, a small one, was something he welcomed. 

At that moment, a man was thrown bodily through the front door, landing in a puddle of water and muck. His beard was dripping with what had most likely been the drink he’d been downing as he was kicked out. 

“And stay out, ya hear? There’ll be no talk of pigs in my pub!” the owner roared from the door, slamming it closed. Harry felt the strange urge to laugh, especially when Louis turned a completely confused face to Harry. 

“What …” Louis began, but Harry just shook his head.

“Later. Let’s get the food out back. I’ll cook.”

Harry hurried through a small, horrible smelling alley, only sure that Louis was following him by the sound of his splashing footsteps, and reached the back of the pub. A young boy, his hair shining in the candlelight from the open door, was just setting out a few plates of fish and chips, and he looked up as Harry turned the corner. There was a beat of nothing, where both stood frozen, waiting to see what would happen. The boy, Peter, nodded and scurried away, and at that moment, someone slammed into the back of Harry, making him stumble. 

“Whoops, sorry, H. You move fast. Is that for us?”

Louis gestured at the plates, and Harry nodded, scooping it all up into his arms and making his way through the alleys, knowing all the shortcuts to the inn so he wouldn’t be spotted. It was how he liked it - or was it just what he’d grown used to doing? His hunger was gnawing at him right now, making it very hard to concentrate. He hadn’t realized how fast the day had gone. But, in a place where the indication of day and night was simply darker clouds, time seemed to be a mystery. 

It was only when they were back inside the inn, climbing the stairs to their rooms, that Harry thought about what was about to happen. He and Louis were about to share a meal in his room. Harry had never thought much about dating or anything related to love. Those things were never present in his life, and since he’d been so close to ending it just a few days ago, he never thought he’d experience anything even remotely close. But this was … something. 

They reached Harry’s door, and Louis held out his arms for the food. Harry transferred it to him, trying to concentrate on anything other than the zip of feeling that went up his arm as their skin brushed. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside, allowing Louis to follow as he took off his helmet, breathing in the musty smell of the building. It wasn’t nearly as inviting as the sea and the grass had been.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Louis said with a small laugh. Harry waited for that wave of shame to wash over him. It’s not that he wasn’t proud of himself for managing to make some sort of a home in a place that had constantly made him feel like an outsider, but he knew as much as he tried to pretend people’s opinions didn’t bother him, it simply wasn’t true. Everything bothered him. Every word spoken to him was always an insult. 

But, instead of that shame, he felt something else, something he’d only read about in books. It was nicer than shame, though it involved the same clenching of his stomach and the rise of color to his cheeks. He felt … bashful. 

“Thanks, Louis. It’s not much, but I think I have a hot plate around here somewhere,” Harry said, trying to steer the conversation back to something he could understand and deal with immediately. Whatever he was feeling for Louis would have to wait until he had time to figure out what it really meant. 

“I mean it, though. There’s really not much we can do with these rooms, and it feels … homey in here.” Louis stood there in the small space between Harry’s bed and the makeshift work area, and turned in a circle, taking it in. “Reminds me of …” Louis trailed off then, his nose scrunching in apparent pain, but a moment later, it was gone. “Can’t remember, but I like it.”

Harry’s curiosity from earlier in the day came back full force, but again, now was not the time to ponder it. His hand finally found the hot plate and he pulled it out, moving a few books so he could settle it on a small table. Louis placed the food on the table and took a precarious seat on Harry’s bed, letting his legs swing. 

“So, this is what you do every night then?”

Harry turned, having finished firing up the hot plate, and leaned against the set of drawers, not trusting himself to sit down next to Louis. 

“Not always. Sometimes he forgets. Sometimes, I steal fish from the discard area by the docks. Sometimes, I don’t eat at all.” Louis looked horrified, but Harry was quick to amend his statement. Louis’ distress was exactly the kind of thing Harry wanted to avoid, for whatever reason. “It’s not that I couldn’t get food if I wanted it, I just … have things on my mind sometimes, and I forget to eat.”

Louis seemed to understand, because he didn’t ask any more questions. Needing something to fill the horrible silence, Harry flicked on the small television, the nightly news doing little to ease Harry’s heightened awareness of everything around him. The hot plate was warm enough now, he thought, so he put on the fish and chips, letting them sizzle and create smoke. 

“God, that smells good,” Louis said then, closing his eyes. Harry’s gaze snapped onto him. “It definitely didn’t smell this good at the pub.”

“Maybe because we aren’t surrounded with drunk, dirty men,” Harry mumbled under his breath, and Louis' eyes opened, staring at Harry. 

“Did you just make a joke?”

Harry, once again, felt the strange sensation of blood rising to his cheeks, and he looked away, but Louis was laughing, and for once, it wasn’t a jeering laugh. It was a full on belly laugh, humorous, and Harry found himself half smiling once more. 

When the food was ready, Harry scraped it back onto the two plates it had come on and offered one to Louis, taking his and settling on the floor, leaning up against the side of his bed. 

“Oh, so we’re eating down there, then?” Louis asked, and seconds later, there he was on the floor next to Harry. Their shoulders were almost touching, and Harry shoved a few chips into his mouth. When he’d swallowed, it appeared Louis was waiting for a response. 

“I usually eat at the desk, but I … only have one chair. Was gonna give it to you.”

Louis’ eyes softened at that, and he nudged up against Harry’s arm, his smile apparent even through a mouthful of fish. 

After that, they lapsed into the silence that came with eating when one is extremely hungry, both men’s attention being drawn to the news, which was still playing. 

“And to top it all off tonight, we’ve still got a strange migration of a rare fish appearing in the waters. Should be something to look forward to in the next few weeks.”

“Did you know that fish were so important here?” Louis asked, and Harry very nearly rolled his eyes fondly before remembering that he and Louis were very new to the whole friendship thing, and he wasn’t sure if that was something he should do. Better that he just explain. 

“Fish is the main export here. It’s really all Eroda is good for.” Harry didn’t mean to sound bitter, he really didn’t, but he knew that his true feelings about the place he should be calling home were coming through. And what’s more, he knew that Louis could hear it. He didn’t want Louis to have the same distaste for Eroda that he did. He wouldn’t wish his relationship with the island and the people on it on anyone, especially another Peculiar like himself. But he didn’t want to sugarcoat it, either. 

“I’m sure there’s more to this place than fish. I mean, you’re here. So that’s another good thing this island has going for it, eh?”

Louis’ words were playful, exactly the thing Harry would expect to hear from a friend, had he ever had one, but his heart still flipped over and his cheeks still burned red. Louis made him feel so much. It was a lot to try and comprehend all at once. 

“Guess so,” Harry responded, unsure of what else to say. “I just never felt at home here. I’ve always wanted to leave.”

“So why haven’t you?”

Harry knew that Louis’ question was an innocent one, but he was suddenly bombarded with all of the reasons he’d stayed here: _He’d had nowhere else to go. He had wanted to finish his research. He had hoped that one day, someone would come get him instead._ _He’d wanted to die._ Those were things he wasn’t sure he wanted to share, even with Louis. 

“I … couldn’t. I have no one and nothing.”

_Wow, Harry, that was morbid_ , Harry thought to himself. 

“Harry …” Louis said, his voice laced with sadness, and Harry wanted to recoil. He hated pity. But the moment Louis’ hand made contact with his arm, every other thought vanished. “You no longer have no one, okay? You have me.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He felt like crying, if he was being honest, but he cried far too often, and he didn’t need anyone seeing him in that kind of state, least of all this person, Louis, who was somehow changing the way he saw the world. 

“Thank you for the food, by the way. I was starting to worry that I’d have to go down to the coast and fish with my hands and start a fire or something,” Louis joked, and Harry just nodded, having finally, it seemed, run out of words. 

Louis stood up and stretched, offering his hand to Harry. Harry hesitantly took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “This was nice. Been feeling a bit alone lately. It’s nice to know there’s some here who won’t run at the sight of me.”

“I know how you feel,” Harry mumbled, and Louis’ smile widened. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Harry just nodded, trying to think of something worthy to say that would encompass everything he was feeling right now, but even he wasn’t sure what all of that was. 

Louis had almost made it through the door and across the hall before Harry found his voice. 

“Thank you, Louis.”

“For what?”

“For … talking to me.”

Louis’ smile was soft this time, reserved for just them, even though there was no one else around. It felt oddly intimate. “Anytime, H. Good night.”

“Good night,” Harry whispered as Louis’ door closed behind him. He backed into his own room, closed the door, and sat down on the edge of his bed. As he sat there, running over the day’s events in his mind, he found his lips twitching until he was fully smiling, his muscles straining with the unfamiliarity. 

Louis made him feel … light. That was the only way he could describe it. Everything always weighed so heavily on Harry that he felt like he was dragging heavy chains everywhere, one for every horrible word thrown at him and every depressing thought that came along with that. But with Louis, it was like he could breathe again. 

Louis had this infectious energy, one that Harry hadn’t been expecting, but that wasn’t at all surprising at the same time. He had a fire in him that Harry thought he might have had himself if he’d grown up somewhere, anywhere, else. 

For the first time since Louis had arrived, Harry wasn’t thinking about his research. He wasn’t thinking of Louis as another piece of the puzzle, but rather something else entirely. Quite possibly, his saving grace. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Harry sat down heavily on his bed, taking his helmet off and letting it drop to the floor as he stared at his find. He’d just been down to the lobby to gather his washing from the machine when he’d seen it - someone had propped open the back door and slipped a wrapped package between the door and the wall. Harry had looked around several times, but he knew he was the only one who entered through that door, other than Louis. He knelt down and pulled the package inside. On the front, in a scribbled font, was his name. Nothing else, just the five letters that made Harry’s breath stop. He looked around again and, even though he knew he wouldn’t be seen, he tucked the package under his jacket and made his way quickly and quietly back to his room. 

Now he found himself hesitant to open it. He’d been through every possibility, and even though his mind kept coming back to Louis, he knew Louis wouldn’t have left it. Louis would have just come across the hall, and even though it had been almost a week since Harry had seen him, it still seemed extremely unlikely. 

The thing was that everyone on Eroda knew who he was. Peculiars were known, just detested, and that meant that the people knew to avoid the inn, as they knew that’s where he lived. But even though he had a name, no one ever used it. It made him suspicious, but his curiosity had never been stronger. 

Slowly, very slowly, he peeled back the thick brown paper to reveal … a book. But it wasn’t just any book. In fact, he’d most definitely never seen a book like this one. It was bound in old leather and held together by a length of twine. The cover was nearly rotted with age, the words barely discernible, but he let his fingers run over the raised words anyway, completely in awe. 

It was a book about magic. 

Now, for Harry, he wasn’t sure he truly believed in magic - it had been at the back of his mind for a long time, but if it truly existed, he could have used it to escape Eroda or make himself Erodian or something. Even in kids stories, magic was found few and far between, and was always controlled heavily by one person or another. But, during his research over the years, it was a common theme that he always came back to - the only explanation for the many abnormalities that kept cropping up in the connections between other Peculiars and Eroda. And it was something Harry had never been able to research because there just weren’t any books about it. On Eroda, magic was a myth. 

But here was proof that, even after all of his going in circles and being confused and giving up and coming back, that he might have been right all along. 

_You’re getting ahead of yourself_ , Harry thought. _You haven’t even opened it yet._

His fingers lingered over the edge of the cover, preparing himself mentally for what he might discover. This could be the answer to everything.

He started to open it, breathing in the smell of ink and paper, and there was a sudden knock on his door. He jumped violently, the book falling to the floor with a thump. He stayed where he was, not knowing if he’d just been so absorbed in his discovery that he was overreacting to perfectly ordinary sounds, but then the knock came again, and with it, Louis’ voice. 

“Harry? I know you’re in there. Can I come in?”

In that moment, Harry panicked. He had been so stuck in his research over the last week that he hadn’t bothered covering his wall, and now he had a book about magic laying on the floor in full view of whoever came in. And as much as he had begun to trust Louis, even in the few times they’d spent time together, he couldn’t show him this. He couldn’t show anyone. As if people didn’t think he was crazy enough, they really didn’t need to know about his theories. 

“Just … just a second,” Harry called, already moving around the room. He kicked the book under the bed, crumpling the paper and tossing it in a corner and hurrying over to his wall, pulling the wallpaper up over everything. His hands were shaking so badly it took him several tries to get the tack into the wallpaper, but finally, everything was hidden. Smoothing his hands down over his front, he walked over to the door and slowly pulled it open just a fraction, making sure that it was indeed Louis. Louis’ radiant smile and bright gaze met his own, and he sighed, opening the door fully and letting him in. 

“How’s things? Missed seeing you for the last few days.” Louis commented, and Harry shrugged, opting for no words instead of the truth. 

The last week hadn’t been the best. Despite the happiness that Louis brought to his life, he was still struggling with his own mind. Every night when he slept, even when he dreamed about a place that only existed in his mind, he woke up and was reminded of reality - he was an outcast. Everything about him was wrong to everyone else. Having someone who was like him didn’t change any of that, and it didn’t change his thoughts of ending it all, either. Those voices in his head spoke less often, but when they were there, they screamed until he ended up on the floor with a pillow pressed to his face, hoping against hope that it would suffocate him, and in that suffocation, silence would come. 

“You know you can come over any time. Just, like, if you’re bored,” Louis said then, his voice softer, and Harry felt that hardness in his chest that had come creeping in over the last few days lessen just slightly. Just having Louis near him was making him feel better already. He gave Louis the smallest of smiles and nodded, which seemed to satisfy Louis’ curiosity. 

“So what did you want?” Harry asked, cringing at the harshness of his own words. “Sorry, that sounded … I just meant … “ he trailed off miserably, but Louis didn’t seem to be offended. 

“I know, H. I was gonna make my way to the beach, just to … for a walk. Wanted to know if you wanted to come with me.”

Harry hesitated. He often waited until very early in the morning or very late at night to venture out - it was just easier and it eliminated a lot of the judgemental words thrown around. But Louis was standing there looking at him and, for some inexplicable reason, he didn’t want to say no. He wanted to do whatever Louis wanted to do, and before he had a chance to comprehend that change in his mind, he was speaking. 

“Yeah. Haven’t been out in a bit.”

Louis grinned and held out his hand, and Harry stared at it. He knew he was supposed to take it, but he wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to holding Louis’ hand, even for a moment. Nevertheless, he picked up his helmet from the floor, settled it onto his shoulders, and took Louis’ smaller hand in his. 

Instantly, Harry felt a strange sense of familiarity. It was like he and Louis had been holding hands his entire life, and that he always followed Louis around, wherever he wanted to go. His head throbbed with sudden pain and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting Louis guide him to the door. It cleared quickly, but Harry hoped that Louis hadn’t seen the pain on his face. As if he needed his chronic headaches to be just another thing that Louis worried about. 

They made their way down the stairs and out the back door, and Harry remembered for a moment the book that he’d shoved under his bed. He’d have to come back to that when his mind wasn’t a cacophony of LouisLouisLouis. But right now, all he cared about was Louis’ hand in his, and the expert way he led Harry down back alleys. Clearly, Louis had been out and about while Harry had been holed up in his room. 

But even with their shortcuts, they had to walk through the main docks area, and the moment they were in sight of the fishermen, the insults came, whispered and yelled in equal measure. 

“There’s those two Peculiars.”

“They found each other, how sweet …”

“Get lost, scum!”

“Martha, the children! Keep them close.”

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat, pulling his hand out of Louis’ reluctantly and walking next to him instead. Louis didn’t seem particularly bothered by the jeering and name-calling, but he did look a little sad, and Harry refused to believe that it was related to the separation of their hands.

They made their way to the beach, and the transition from pavement to grass to sand made something stir in Harry. It reminded him, quite painfully, of his failed suicide attempt, but he fought those thoughts, pushing them down until he could just barely feel them struggling to surface. Louis was now standing at the edge of the water, staring out at the seemingly endless grey landscape. Grey sand, grey water, grey sky. He didn’t move, even when Harry stopped and stood next to him. 

“Can’t believe it’s been two weeks,” Louis mumbled, his eyes not leaving the distant horizon. Harry wasn’t sure he was supposed to speak, so he didn’t. He just waited, sure that Louis has more on his mind. “I don’t remember much. It’s like … I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Harry turned so he was facing Louis instead of the sea. “Is that why you came here? To remember?”

Louis shook his head, a slightly pained expression crossing his features for a moment. “Not really. I lost something … I remember having it when you approached me, but when I woke up in the hospital, it was gone. I thought maybe it fell out of my pocket and …” he stopped speaking for a moment, looking up at Harry. “I was hoping you’d help me look for it.”

Harry felt a sudden sense of guilt come over him, and he asked the question, despite knowing the answer that was sure to come. “What did you lose?”

Louis was silent for a moment, his eyes again focused on the distance. “A gold ring.”

Harry swallowed, his mind flashing back to the moment he’d hung the gold chain with its accessory on his wall of research. He should have given it back ages ago, but something had stopped him. For some reason, he connected his friendship with Louis to him having that ring. He’d saved Louis, he’d picked up the ring, and he and Louis were growing closer. If he returned it now, or even admitted to having it, it would look like he’d stolen it and kept it from Louis, and that would ruin everything. And even if his hiding it didn’t make Louis hate him, giving it back might mean that Louis didn’t need him anymore. 

So Harry stayed silent, and instead followed Louis’ lead, looking over the wet sand in search of a glint of metal that Harry knew wouldn’t be found.

As they searched, Harry’s eye caught on something else, something colorful. He knelt down and brushed some sand and shells aside to reveal a torn piece of material. It was thick, almost like a flag of some sort, and it had splashes of blue, purple, and white, all swirled together. He looked up, watching Louis as he wandered further and further along the beach, and slipped the material into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like he needed to keep it. 

They searched for a while, Harry doing his best to block out the comments from the fishermen as they docked their boat. Louis’ shoulders sagged the longer they searched, and as the sky began to darken, Louis finally came back to him, his eyes downcast. 

“It’s not here.”

Harry nearly crumpled under the guilt. He wanted to just give the ring back and spare Louis his sadness, but he couldn’t - there was something that had been stirring at the back of his mind for a few days now, and that ring was part of it. He just stood silently by Louis’ side as he gave one last look around at the sand. 

“I know it was stupid to think it would still be here. I probably lost it when … but that’s not important.”

Harry just nodded and followed him as they made their way back to the docks. Most Erodians were turning in for the night, much to Harry’s relief. This meant they could walk the regular streets instead of the alleys. Sometimes, doing something so simple was ridiculously liberating. 

“Who gave it to you? The ring, I mean,” Harry asked, and Louis looked up at him through the near darkness. 

“I … I don’t remember, actually. I just know it’s important. It was someone important to me.” Louis sucked in a breath then, looking away from Harry and rubbing the back of his neck. “God, I hadn’t realized … haven’t eaten all day. Must be where that headache’s coming from, eh?”

Harry shrugged, very used to the aching of hunger in his stomach. “I’ve got some fish left over from a few nights ago?” It came out like a question, but thankfully, Louis understood. 

“I’d be very happy for my little chef to make me some fish. Seems to be a popular dish around here.”

Harry then found himself doing something he hadn’t done in many years - he laughed. And in that moment where Louis looked at him, surprise etched on his features, Harry was filled with something he never thought he was capable of feeling: love. “You have no idea.” 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

  
  


It was late, and Harry knew that. Louis had gone over to his own room about an hour ago, and it had taken Harry that much time to collect himself and his thoughts, and make sure that Louis wasn’t going to come back. But surprisingly, despite the exhausting day he’d had - more mentally and emotionally than anything else - he was wide awake. 

The book he’d found that morning had finally worked its way to the forefront of his mind, and he had spent most of the last hour playing with the now dry piece of material he’d found at the beach. He’d had to wait until he was sure Louis was asleep, or at least in his room for an extended period of time, before peeling back his wallpaper and exposing his extensive research. 

Louis’ gold ring glinted in the faint light from Harry’s lamp, and he once again pushed away the feeling of guilt, knowing that there were other more important things that he needed to figure out right now. 

He’d picked up the material because he thought it had looked, somehow, familiar, and as he stood up, taking in his wall, he saw it. The page he’d torn from an old children’s book was tacked front and center, as everything he’d ever discovered seemed to lead back to it. The name of the island, whatever it was, had been torn away, leaving Harry with just a picture. But in the very bottom corner of that picture was a rendering of a flag, a beautiful combination of blue, purple, and white. 

He held the material up, comparing it. He couldn’t be sure, of course, because too many things washed up on the beaches of Eroda, but it looked similar. Enough that it was worth investigating further, anyway. 

Pulling a tack from the jar behind his television, he pinned the material up next to the picture, giving it one last look before turning away and back to his bed. Kneeling down, he pulled the magic book from underneath it and sat down on top of his duvet, the book in his lap. 

For some reason, he felt he needed to be gentle with it, like it was going to fall apart in his hands. It certainly looked old enough to do so. Harry ran his fingers over the cracked leather, tracing the faint golden letters that had clued him in to the book’s contents, even though they were barely discernible. 

Even if he hadn’t been able to read the title, he would have known that it was magic. It made his fingers tingle in a strange, almost electric way. It felt familiar but foreign, exciting but terrifying. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that, but before he lost his nerve, he opened it. 

The first page was burned around the edges and had no words on it, but there was a small note folded into the crease of the page. Harry picked it up gingerly and unfolded it, the paper crinkling between his fingers. Nine words were written there in spidery lettering:

_To understand the present, you must discover the past_

In the bottom left corner was a crude drawing. Harry squinted, staring at it, but he couldn’t decipher it. He read the note again and then let it fall into his lap, suddenly overcome with emotion. His entire life had been dedicated to figuring out what was going on on this strange island, why he felt so out of place, even how to escape. His search for detailed history had come to no avail, and had led him down such a dark path that he’d almost not made it to this moment. But here in his hands sat a book that had somehow evaded all of his searching, and it might just be the key to everything. He had never felt more alive. 

Settling back against his pillow, he turned the first damp page and started to read the intro, which was handwritten. 

_The existence of sorcery, or what some call magic, is something that has been present throughout the entire world’s history. Most cultures have chosen to talk about how they eradicated it, instead of focusing on the good it could have brought, had it been treated with respect instead of disgust._

_But sorcery still exists. It is all around us, waiting for someone to call it into action. Most have just never been taught how to wield such power. But with power comes responsibility and the knowledge that sorcery is an equal, a partner to enhance one’s life, not something for one being to use over another._

_In this land, the land you call Eroda, sorcery became a method of control, and that is why The Twin broke away. In this book is all that I have learned in my years of research. I hope that, if you are reading this, that you will survive long enough to escape before they find you. I never had the courage._

Harry paused in his reading, his mind more awake than it had been in months. He stood up quickly, letting his finger trail down to the words at the beginning of the third paragraph - The Twin. He’d seen that mentioned before, in obscure books that no one but a Peculiar would ever dare read, for Eroda was a place of complete, complicit trust. But Harry had never trusted anyone in his time here. No one except Louis.

He found it then, on a scrap of paper he’d found hidden in the back of the Eroda Library. The paper was brittle and blackened with soot - it seemed that Eroda hadn’t wanted whatever was on that paper, or in this book, to see the light of day. But the two words on that paper confirmed the theory that Harry had been working on since his arrival on Eroda. 

The Twin referred to another island, one that might, at one time, have been joined with Eroda in some way. That island was pictured, in crude childlike rendering, on the page torn from the children’s book and stuck in the middle of his wall. That island, whatever and wherever it was, was the key. And Harry was determined to find out why it mattered. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

_Harry ran down the beach, the sun blazing in the clear blue sky above. He was laughing, and over the sound of the waves, he could hear another laugh echoing in the wind just behind him. The sound of it made his heart feel lighter._

_“C’mon, Blue, keep up!” He called, and he heard the pounding of small feet as his best friend shot past him. Harry could only grin - he’d always been the slower runner. At least he’d get a few hours out of this with his best friend. Those times were becoming rarer as they grew older. School and family obligations always got in the way. And of course, there was always the looming dread that the Es would come for one of them one day._

_But that was none of his concern. They only ever took adults. He was going to spend the rest of his life here, on this beautiful island, surrounded by the smell of the sea and the blistering heat of the sun and the magic. So much magic._

_He’d been using magic as long as he could remember, though he tried not to unless he was in training. His teachers were very impressed with his knowledge and control, and encouraged him to hone his craft, for it would be useful to him and to their people one day. Harry didn’t mind - he liked being a little ahead, if he was honest._

_He finally caught up with his friend, who was smiling, his caramel hair plastered to his forehead and his blue eyes sparkling, the same color as the ocean in the background._

_“Looks like dinner’s on you, H. I’m thinking … lamb with fresh veggies?”_

_Harry blushed as warm fingers brushed his arm, but he shook the feeling off. He’d been having strange inclinations towards his best friend for a little while now, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about them just yet. Maybe soon._

_“Let’s get going then!”_

Harry woke suddenly, his face stuck to something that smelled of ink. He let his heart calm down, for it was racing - he wasn’t sure why, though. He had the strangest feeling that he’d just been warm, but the chilly wind coming through his perpetually open window said otherwise. 

He sat up, unsticking his face from the magic book, which he’d fallen asleep reading. His mind bounced with all of the information he’d learned before dozing off, and he was itching to scribble down all his new findings and add them to his already covered wall. For the first time in years, and with this gem of a book, he felt like he finally had a lead. 

His eyes once again found Louis’ ring, and a strange mixture of guilt and need filled him. He would have to tell Louis soon. If he could trust anyone, it was the beautiful boy with the dazzling blue eyes. The one who made him feel something more than the dread of more days in this horrible place of never-ending routine and dreariness. He wanted to be with him more than anything - if he had it his way, he’d never let Louis out of his sight. 

Harry stood, letting his mind wander as he made his way to the only shower in the building, which was down the hall and to the left several doors. He didn’t often have the time or the motivation to clean himself, but today felt like a fresh start, and he wanted to physically match his current mental state. 

Once he was cleaner than he’d been in a while, he made his way back to his room, pulled on some clean clothes, and without even stopping to consider grabbing his helmet, went across the hall and knocked on Louis’ door. 

After a few moments of terrifying silence where Harry’s anxieties filled him, screaming at him to run back to his room and hide himself away from Louis’ piercing gaze, the door opened, and Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

Louis smiled as he saw who it was, and Harry found himself almost smiling back. Louis made him crazy like that. 

“Hi, H. Good to see you.”

Harry winced horribly, his head suddenly throbbing, but he bit down hard on his tongue, determined not to let another horrible headache ruin his mood. He thought he saw Louis’ eyes flicker with concern, but it was gone the moment it had come, and Harry found his words.

“Same to you. Umm … you want to walk with me? I just … I miss you.”

Louis’ cheeks flushed pink at Harry’s words. “It’s only been a day, Harry.”

Harry’s cheeks burned, the color surely surpassing Louis’ as he realized what he’d said. But Louis didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed just as flustered as Harry always felt. Maybe Harry wasn’t alone in the feelings that had been building inside him for weeks. But that was for another time. 

Thankfully, Harry didn’t have to figure out how to come back from his slip, though, because Louis’ face brightened and he opened his mouth, clearly eager. 

“There’s this place I found the other day. I forgot to tell you. It’s a little ways down the beach, but it’s quiet and … maybe we can explore? I get tired cooped up in this room all the time.”

Harry couldn’t agree more - he hated his room for the most part, as it was where he hid from the ridicule of the outside world and where he was often confined during worse weather. He nodded and Louis reached behind him, pulling the door closed. 

They started off down the hallway, but Louis stopped suddenly, turning to face Harry. “Did you want to go back for your helmet? I don’t know if you … I mean, I know you don’t wear it around me, but …” He trailed off, looking embarrassed, but Harry’s heart was full. 

“I … I probably should. Not that I’m not proud to be out with you, but … I mean, they’re just …” Harry took a deep breath, really thinking about Louis’ proposal. It had been many years since Harry had walked the streets of Eroda without the comfort of his helmet. It wasn’t for lack of trying, though. He just found it easier - if people didn’t want to see his face, he saw no reason to burden them. But with Louis, it was different. Harry didn’t want to hide. In fact, he actively wanted to do the opposite. “You know what? I’ll just leave it.”

“You sure?”

Harry nodded, swallowing down the knot of anxiety that had risen in his throat. “I’m with you.”

Again, Louis’ cheeks tinged with pink, and he offered his hand to Harry. Harry only hesitated a moment before slipping his larger hand into Louis’ smaller one. There it was again, that sharp pain right at the front of his forehead, but he closed his eyes, willing it away. He wanted to treasure these moments and hope for future ones, not dread them like he did everything else. He wanted things to change. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

They had very little interaction as they made their way through main streets, sticking to the dingy darkness that clung to the buildings. Harry felt horribly exposed, but he kept his mind focused on his hand, which Louis was still holding, and it made him feel slightly more grounded. He could feel people staring, but Louis kept up a running conversation that Harry only half listened to, trying to ignore the whispers that were starting to become louder the closer they got to the docks. 

“Fucking Peculiars. What do they think they’re doing out on our streets?”

“Oh, look, they’re holding hands. How sweet … if you like rotting fish.”

“Oi, Pecs! Get the fuck outta here. You’re scaring away all the fish!”

Harry could feel himself trembling, wishing more than anything that he hadn’t decided to be brave today. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from Louis’, feeling a horrible sense of deja-vu. He thought maybe being around Louis would make him less concerned with the thoughts of Erodians, but he’d been wrong. Though Louis didn’t indicate that anything had changed, Harry thought he saw a definite slump to his shoulders as they bypassed the docks, heading right for the beach and the grey-white waves. 

They passed the place where Louis had washed up in silence, and Harry could feel the weight of the secret he kept pressing in on him from all sides as they continued. They were walking in silence now, the only sound that of the crashing waves and the faint murmur of fishermen as they pulled in their load for the morning. 

Making their way around a rather sizable outcropping of rock, their shoes soaking up the water that nearly covered the sand, they found themselves in a small cove. Here, the sound of Eroda’s bustle was nonexistent, and it seemed a little brighter, although it might have been Harry’s imagination. 

“I thought it was nicer over here, away from … all that,” Louis said quietly as they walked to the innermost part of the cove and sat down on the damp sand. Harry nodded in agreement, and both of them just watched the water for a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry finally mumbled, playing with his fingers. Louis looked up at him, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion, and Harry elaborated. “I’m sorry for pulling away from you, you know, back there.”

Louis shook his head, his hand coming to rest on Harry’s forearm. “No, don’t apologize. I get it.”

“No, you don’t. I …” Harry took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to let go. You … you make their words hurt less.”

Louis’ eyes turned slightly glassy at that, and Harry found his throat blocked, unable to say any more. He let his hand find Louis’ again, and their attention went back to the water, letting the reality of Harry’s words sink in. Harry himself wasn’t even sure what the underlying implications of them were. He hadn’t had much experience with feelings or companionship or, dare he even think it, love. But he thought, and he hoped, that Louis understood what he did not.

Harry’s stomach made a loud grumbling noise and he felt it with his free hand, suddenly aware of how hungry he was. He’d forgotten to eat breakfast. Louis laughed at that, the tension of their moment broken.

“I was hoping you’d come find me today - I packed food.” As Louis moved around, trying to reach into his pocket, Harry took a moment to just look at him. He was wearing a darker pair of pants that were rolled up several times at the bottom - Harry wasn’t sure, but he suspected that Louis might have nabbed them from his room at some point. Not that he blamed him - Louis had worn the pants he’d been found in for at least a week after he’d recovered. Harry was glad to see that some part of him was healing, even if he was stuck here. 

The blue shirt he had on had a few tears in it, but Harry’s focus was on the deep v of the front, which showed off Louis’ chest. Harry had never really admired someone’s body before, and it felt strange, but he supposed that anything remotely normal would feel strange to him. To complete the look, Louis had thrown on a brown jacket covered in pockets, from which he finally produced two rather questionable looking sandwiches and a small flask of water. Harry found himself sporting a true smile. He’d never experienced such feelings of happiness and giddiness with anyone, but Louis continued to surprise him. 

“You always think of everything, don’t you?” Harry said, peeling the paper back from his sandwich and lifting the bread slightly to see what he was about to eat.

“It’s fish … kind of the only meat you can get around here,” Louis said with a snort. “And I found some cornbread next to the dumpster and it was still wrapped, so I kind of just …” He made a smooshing movement with his hands and Harry laughed silently, taking a bite. It was the best thing he’d tasted in a long while, and he and Louis sat there, chatting aimlessly. The more they talked, the freer Harry felt. Louis had this amazing way of taking everything about Eroda that weighed him down and making it feel unimportant. Harry had longed for his entire life to feel this light. 

“So what brought you to find this little place?” Harry asked after a while, as their sandwiches digested and they passed the water back and forth. 

Louis shrugged. “I just wanted to find a place that was mine? I got a bit … tired of the insults, and it seemed the only place I could go where they wouldn’t follow was the beach.”

Harry fleetingly thought of the hill, the cliffs that he looked over just a few short weeks ago, contemplating how his life had become such a disaster, but it seemed that Louis had already thought about that as well. 

“I didn’t want to take your place away from you. It seems pretty important, and all that stuff we talked about that day, well, I thought you’d want to keep that private. So I just kind of walked around, kept my head down, and something drew me to this place.” Louis took a swig of the water, pointing with his free hand. “I also discovered a lighthouse. Did you know Eroda had one?”

Harry shook his head - he was surprised. In all his years here, he’d never once seen it. He followed Louis’ finger, and just visible on the furthest end of Eroda’s curve was the top of a lighthouse. The light inside swung around, its beam shining the way far out to sea. 

“It’s always on, even in daylight. I guess they want to make sure no one gets lost …” Louis’ voice trailed off once again. He seemed a bit lost in thought, his eyes scrunching shut momentarily. 

Harry stood up, stretching his legs and brushing sand from his backside. He looked out over the ocean, where a sea breeze was picking up, ruffling his hair. Though he’d washed it just that morning, it felt gritty as he ran his hand through it. 

He felt Louis stand up behind him, but didn’t move until he could feel the warmth of Louis’ body pressed up against his side. 

“You always look so stoic when you’re thinking, you know that?” he said in a quiet voice, and Harry turned his thoughts away from the magic book, which had finally made its way back to the forefront of his mind as he looked at the lighthouse. Something was nagging him, but Louis was there, right next to him, and he couldn’t not pay attention. 

As he turned, he found himself extremely close to Louis, his eyes looking into Harry’s questioningly. Harry felt a surge of something in his stomach, something bordering on pleasure, but with a small thrill added in. 

“You were brave today,” Louis whispered, even though they were alone. The softness of his words made Harry shiver. “I saw how they treated you. You didn’t have to be exposed like this, not for me.”

“I wanted to. You make me brave,” Harry replied just as quietly, and Louis’ lips quirked up in a smile. 

“I like being able to see you.” Louis’ hand lifted, his fingers brushing Harry’s cheek. Harry let his eyes close momentarily, leaning into the touch. They were so close to each other, with nothing but the sea at his back and Louis in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to feel his lips - he wondered if they were soft or rough with sand that the wind seemed to carry everywhere. He wondered if Louis was having the same thoughts, or if he was alone in his longing to take Louis in his arms and make him understand everything that was going on inside his mind. 

The loud clanging of a ship’s warning bell broke the silence, and Harry jumped, pulling away from Louis ever so slightly. He felt … strange, like he was on the precipice of something larger than either of them, but the moment, whatever it had been, was over. Louis’ hand was gone and he had turned away, picking up the rubbish from their impromptu breakfast, but every few moments, he would glance over his shoulder, his eyes saying something different than his distant body language. 

“We should get back … looks like a storm,” Harry mumbled, feeling slow and clumsy after the intensity of the previous moment. Louis looked out over the sea, and somehow, Harry knew he was thinking about the wreck that had landed him here. “Was there anyone with you?”

Louis was silent for a moment, but when he turned to face Harry, his gaze was surprisingly calm. “I don’t remember. I don’t think I would have been traveling alone, but …” He said nothing more, and Harry didn’t push him. 

They walked back the way they’d come, though when they reached the place where sand met stone and pavement, Louis led him off down the back alleys, which Harry was grateful for. He definitely wasn’t up for interacting with anyone, especially when all he wanted to do was rewind to that moment on the beach. 

When they finally reached the inn and made their way up the stairs to their floor, they stopped, and Harry found himself facing Louis and unable to come up with the right words. Saying goodbye felt too formal and final, but saying good night wasn’t right either, as it was the middle of the day. Harry’s stomach was twisting with nerves and his mind was reeling with unfamiliar combinations of emotion, but it was all wiped clear from his mind as he felt Louis’ soft lips against his cheek. 

“We should do this again.”

The silence between them was deafening. Harry just nodded, and Louis smirked, his cheeks that beautiful shade of pink that Harry liked so much. He disappeared into his room, his door closing as the first rumbles of thunder echoed over Eroda. 

Harry stood there, rooted to the spot, his fingers coming up to brush the place where Louis’ lips had been moments before. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hide in his room forever and savor that moment or break into Louis’ room and kiss him till his lips were bruised. Both seemed like good options. Eventually, however, Harry turned and headed into his room.

The sight of the magic book laying open on his bed and the wallpaper pulled down to reveal his years of research brought his mind back to reality with a sharp bump. Though his body was still thrumming with a pleasant happiness from his time with Louis, his mind was returning to the theories he’d been mulling over.

He cleared off his small desk and pulled the book towards him from the top of his duvet, propping it open against the wall. Pulling a crumpled piece of paper from the small drawer, he began to take notes, walking over to his wall every so often to compare notes he’d already taken. Pictures came down and were reorganized, and after hours of work, in which the only noises were the rustle of paper, the steady beat of his heart, and the pounding rain outside, he stepped back, his fingers aching from writing and pushing pins into the wall.

All the pictures and descriptions of the Peculiars that came before him were pinned to the top. Each was connected by a worn piece of rope to a crude sketch Harry had made of the magic book, and below that was everything else. Every mention of this mysterious other place, be it from a random note in the margin of some old and forgotten book, or a page from a storybook, or the copious notes he’d taken on the mentions of The Twin in the book of magic. All of it came back to the history of magic, much of which he still didn’t understand. But one thing was for sure - magic was the cause of all this. It had caused the deaths of those Peculiars. It had pushed away The Twin. It was lording over Eroda like some invisible god. Harry had been right all these years. It wasn’t coincidence or happenstance that everything here was connected. It wasn’t a fluke or a conspiracy, as Harry had always told himself it must be. It was real, and had been staring him in the face for years. 

The few things he didn’t understand, however, were pinned off to the side - Louis’ golden ring and the note he’d found in the magic book with the drawing in the corner. Harry had stared at it for over an hour, turning it this way and that, and even trying to look at it at eye level instead of from above, but nothing about it made sense. He’d finally come to the conclusion that it meant nothing - it was just some insignia that happened to be on the paper this person, or even the author, had used to write to him. 

As he sat back on his bed, satisfied with his work, he wondered if the person who’d left him the book and the note was still here, or if they’d gone and sent a messenger to do their business. Somehow, he felt as if they were waiting for him somewhere on the island, and he just had to put all the pieces together before he discovered the truth. Probably just wishful thinking, but all of this work, and Louis’ appearance on Eroda, had his mind thinking in the positive instead of the negative. 

Harry twisted his own silver ring around his finger, his mind racing, and he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps outside his door. 

Louis came bursting into the room, his eyes alight as they always were. “Harry, you’re not going to believe what I … what are you doing?”

For Harry, upon being startled by the door hitting his wall, had jumped off the bed and attempted to cover the wall with his body, not having time to pull the wallpaper over his research. His mind was a flurry of half-formed excuses, but he was so concerned with what was undoubtedly going to happen next that he couldn’t find any words that would stop it. 

Louis stopped then, surveying the room. His eyes raked over the desk, which was covered in bits of paper and the magic book, still open, and then to Harry, who could feel the fear rising in his throat as he tried to pretend this was some horrible dream. 

He knew the moment Louis’ eyes spotted his ring, because the sparkle in them disappeared, and they narrowed, now as cold as the ocean outside. 

“Where did you get that?”

His voice had taken on a tone that made Harry want to run and hide, but there was nowhere to go. He was here, facing Louis as Louis discovered his biggest and most well-kept secret, and there was no going back. 

“Louis, I can exp-”

Louis stalked towards him and Harry backed away, his shoulders hitting the wall where he’d just placed the last pin on the drawing of the other island. Louis reached around him, yanking at the golden chain, and Harry heard the faint noise of a pin hitting the rotting wooden floorboards. 

“You’re telling me that I asked you to help me find this yesterday, and you let me search and mourn and it’s been in here the entire time?”

Harry had no explanation. He had hoped that, in time, he would be able to give it to Louis naturally, or even make it seem as though he’d found it by accident. All notion of that chain of events was gone now, and he was faced with a very angry Louis, unable to find a way of explaining what he’d done and why without making him out to be an even bigger idiot than he already was. 

“Answer me, Harry,” Louis’ voice was low, gravelly, and not in the nice way that Harry had begun to imagine. It was scary. 

“You … the day you washed up, you dropped it in the hospital. I didn’t think you’d want to lose it, so I kept it, but … Louis, you have to understand, I’ve been researching for years, and it felt important. It is important. It means something.”

“Whatever the fuck you’re on about, I don’t want to hear it.” Louis turned away from Harry, heading for the open door, but Harry reached out, desperate to explain everything now that he’d been found out. 

As Harry’s fingers wrapped around Louis’ wrist, a blinding pain shot through his head, so powerful that he stumbled, dropping to one knee. Harry could feel tears in his eyes, but he forced them open. Louis was leaning up against the desk, his head in his hands, the golden chain connected to his ring dangling from the hand Harry had just tried to grab. 

“Louis …”

“No, Harry. Don’t try to come up with some explanation,” Louis said, his voice laced with pain. 

“Something’s going on with this island,” Harry blurted out before Louis could regain his composure and leave. “It’s not normal. There’s magic and mysterious deaths and I was almost one of them, but now you’re here and things are starting to make sense. Please, Louis, you have to believe me. I’m not lying.”

Louis straightened up, his eyes watering, and looked over Harry’s shoulder at the wall, his eyes raking back and forth as he followed the rope from picture to picture. He shook his head. “I believe that you’re not lying. I just think you’re crazy.”

Harry’s heart stopped. Hearing those words from Louis, the very last person he’d ever expected to hear them from, felt like someone had doused him in icy water. “Lou, don’t … don’t say that …”

“What else do you want me to say, Harry? You’re barking. This stuff, it’s not normal. And on top of that, you had my ring and you knew how much I wanted it back and you kept it for some stupid reason, to fulfill some sort of fantasy or whatever.” Louis’ eyes were glassy, or maybe it was just Harry trying to blink through his own tears. He couldn’t be sure. Everything seemed so far away. 

“ … leaving, and I’m taking this with me. Just stay away from me.”

Harry caught the end of Louis’ tirade and winced as his door slammed closed behind Louis. He backed up to his bed, sinking shakily onto it, and let the tears fall. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Over the next few days, Harry had very little motivation for anything. He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. He barely got up to use the toilet, though if he hadn’t, he would have soiled the only place he had to stay, and he probably wouldn’t have cared. He mostly went from staring out the window into the dreary rain to staring at his wall, which he eventually covered, tired of seeing the very thing that had ruined whatever he’d had with Louis. 

He had brought it upon himself, though, and he knew that. He just hated that he let it get this far without bringing Louis in on it. He should have just done that from the beginning. But what kind of shipwreck victim wants to be bombarded with the idea of magic and a history of mystery around Peculiars? That had been Harry’s reasoning from the beginning, as well as not losing Louis. Now? He couldn’t remember why he’d made such a choice, because by keeping it a secret, he’d lost Louis anyway. And this was way worse than scaring him off immediately, because now feelings were involved. Feelings he should have never allowed himself to entertain in the first place. 

Harry couldn’t be sure how many days he wallowed, for that was what he was calling his current state of apparent apathy towards all things. What he did know, however, was that it ended the moment he heard Louis’ screams, echoing through the corridor outside.

It was dark, much darker than most nights were, but the torrential rain was making the night and its darkness thicker. Harry had been staring at the ceiling, remembering the moment he’d nearly shared with Louis on the beach. How that would be the last memory they’d have together, because it caused him too much pain to remember the last time they’d been face to face. 

The scream startled him. It wasn’t as loud as it could have been, but it was definitely a shout, one of fear, and it was coming from across the hall. Harry shot out of bed, his only thoughts of Louis, and eased his door open, making his way to Louis’ room in a few long strides. The door was closed tightly, but Harry knew that Louis never bothered to lock his door. It wasn’t like anyone was coming up here to interact with Peculiars like them. 

Harry pressed his ear to the door, but all he could hear was mumbling. Panicked, terrified mumbling. He turned the knob of the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. A candle was lit, burning down to the stub beside Louis’ bed. Louis was there, again twisted in his duvet, a light sheen of sweat visible on his forehead. He was tossing back and forth, words coming from his mouth in jumbled nonsense. 

“Magic … must avoid … not safe … so much magic … the lighthouse …”

Harry might have thought this the raving words of a nightmare once, but now, amidst all the research he’d done over the last few days, he thought it must mean something more. He moved closer to Louis, unsure whether he should reach out to touch him. He didn’t want Louis to wake up and say more horrible things, but he didn’t want Louis to hurt himself either. 

Louis was whimpering now, his face screwed up. “They took him. He’s too young, but they took him. They’re going to … thieves … the lighthouse, must find …”

He screamed again, thrashing, his head coming dangerously close to the corner of his desk, and Harry had no choice. He sat down firmly on the bed, pulling Louis into his arms and holding him tight while he struggled, stuck in whatever nightmare was plaguing him. 

“Lou … shhh, Louis, it’s me. You’re safe,” Harry said, unsure if his words would do anything to comfort Louis while he was still asleep, but he didn’t know what else he could do. 

Louis was crying now, tears sliding down his cheeks, glistening on his cheekbones and following his jawline and his neck. “Please …”

Harry fought tears of his own and held Louis close to his chest, rocking him slightly back and forth, hoping to ease him out of his nightmare and back to reality. Though, if Harry thought about it, reality might be more of a nightmare than whatever was in Louis’ head. 

After several more minutes, Louis finally seemed to calm down. His limbs stopped twitching and he wasn’t moving around as much. His breathing was labored, as though he’d run a marathon, but he was at least calm. 

Harry tried to ease himself away from Louis, sure that now, if ever, was the time to go, but Louis’ hand gripped his shirt, and when Harry looked around, Louis’ eyes were open.

“I’m sorry. You were just … I wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself,” Harry mumbled, trying again to move away, but Louis’ grip only tightened. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes screwing up as pain seemed to radiate through his whole body. Harry felt it too, could feel the pressure behind his eyes building again, but he ignored it, refusing to let anything get in the way of this moment. 

“I’ll go. You’re alright now,” Harry said finally, his voice coming out extremely flat, but he was spent. All of his energy was being channeled into pushing away his headache and his feelings, which were beginning to make his heart ache almost as much as his head. 

“No, please. Stay. Want … want you to …” Louis said, his eyes fluttering as exhaustion seemed to overtake him. His head landed on Harry’s chest as his breathing evened out, and Harry, as per Louis’ request, leaned back against the headboard of the bed, letting his own eyes close. 

Hours later, the roaring sound of the wind woke Harry from his half slumber. Louis was now curled in a ball next to Harry, his fingers still tangled loosely in the fabric of Harry’s shirt. Harry could see a glint of gold around his neck - the ring on its chain. Another stab of guilt hit him, and he forced himself away from Louis, standing and swaying on the spot for a moment before regaining his bearings. 

Louis had craved his closeness, that was true. But he was delirious with sleep and fear and Harry knew that’s all it was. He needed to get away from all of this - from his confusing feelings and his theories and everything. He needed to feel the rain on his face and let that wash away all of his confusion and doubt and pain. He needed to be alone. 

It was only a few minutes later that Harry exited the inn through the back door, helmet firmly atop his shoulders. He hadn’t bothered changing clothes - they were going to get soaked anyway. He could already feel the chill creeping into his bones as he walked the nearly deserted streets of Eroda. It was still too early for most people to be awake, but he still felt like he was being watched, ridiculed, through every window he passed. 

As he reached the edge of town, he could see the painting lady sitting outside a small house, a tent of fabric over her, painting frivolously. She looked up as Harry passed, but Harry averted his gaze. Even her presence felt like too much right now. 

Up and up he went, slipping ever so often on the wet, dead grass, until he reached his summit once again. The rain was letting up a little now, but the wind wasn’t. It blew through the grass and out over the cliffs, where the waters were churning in the grip of the storm, as restless as Harry’s own mind. 

He thought about sitting down on his bench, maybe pulling out a jar that he knew he’d left up here, but it felt too familiar. He didn’t want familiar. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. 

He kept walking until he was standing on the very edge of the cliff, looking out over the whole of Eroda. Through the fog and the cracked glass of his helmet, he couldn’t see much beyond the docks, but every so often, a small amount of light would make its way through the dense cloud - the lighthouse. 

Harry sat down in the wet grass, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the rock face. Up here, with nothing but water and a small patch of sand below, he felt very small. Somehow, that calmed his mind a bit. Or maybe it was the apathy creeping back in. 

Everything that had happened since the day of Louis’ arrival on Eroda had been a direct extension of Harry’s own actions. Finally giving up on living in a world where he was no longer wanted, had never been wanted, actually, he found himself pulled back by this mysterious figure that appeared as if from nowhere. Having halted his research for lack of resources, he found himself in possession of something that opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Having given up on ever finding someone who would see him as something other than an abomination, he found not only a friend, but a possible companion, in Louis. And in his eagerness to finally solve his mystery and start a new chapter in his saved life, he’d lost everything he’d gained, leaving him here, back at the place that had essentially started it all. 

Maybe it was time to just let it all go. Let his hope go. Let his research go. Let Louis go. 

Harry felt water trickling down his face, but he wasn’t sure if it was rain leaking through his helmet or tears. Whichever it was, he had a fleeting thought of letting himself drown in it. Then, at least, he’d be free. 

“You look like you could use a friend,” a voice said from behind him, carried on the wind. Harry didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to see Louis’ expression right now, but he knew he’d have to face it eventually. And so he turned. 

Louis looked a little drier than Harry felt, but still very windswept. His hair was disheveled, falling into his eyes, but, despite all of Harry’s fears, he didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked more concerned than anything else. It surprised Harry to see that expression on his face, when the angry one from mere days ago had imprinted itself in Harry’s mind. 

“Can I join you?” Louis asked, and Harry felt that swooping sense of pleasure in his stomach, the one he had done his best to push away over the last few days. It was a welcome feeling this time. Harry nodded, but he didn’t remove his helmet as Louis took a seat on the wet grass next to him. 

They were silent for a while. Harry wasn’t sure what he could say that would fix what he’d done, but he didn’t want Louis to think he wasn’t sorry. But the words wouldn’t come to him. Instead, very different words passed his lips, ones he had never intended to speak aloud to anyone, let alone someone like Louis. Someone he loved. 

“I almost died here.”

Louis was quiet, and Harry just knew that he was waiting for him to continue. Somehow, Louis always knew what Harry needed, even through the silences. 

“It was the day you washed ashore. I’d had enough. My entire life I’d spent searching for a way out, a reason behind all of the strange things that happened here. Every time I came close, I hit a wall, and I just … I didn’t want to do it anymore. My life had no purpose. So I came here.”

Harry was glad for his helmet in this moment, because Louis couldn’t see the tears now running steadily down his cheeks. His body must have betrayed him, though, because Louis’ soft hand was on his arm then, and Harry could feel the heat from his body seeping through his sopping clothes. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to te-”

Harry shook his head furiously. “No, _no_ . I have to. You have to understand.” He took a deep breath, trying not to choke on the sobs that threatened to escape him. “I lost my drive, my will, to go on. I would have done it, too. I would have just been another name on a list of long forgotten Peculiars who succumbed to the darkness of Eroda. But I heard the bell, and something in me knew that, whatever, or _whoever_ , it was for, I had to find out. It was like the fire relit inside me.”

Harry finally forced himself to look at Louis, and he could see tears making their way silently down Louis’ grimy cheeks. It made Harry want to talk faster, get it all out. Make Louis understand why he did everything, so that maybe, just maybe, he could salvage what was left of whatever they had. 

“When I found you on that beach, I knew. Someone out there sent you to me for a reason. You were the missing puzzle piece that started it all. All that stuff you saw in my room,” Harry gestured vaguely with his hand, “that was my research. Everything I’d tried to learn about the pasts of people like me, the strange powers that seem to rule over this place, and the island. This other place, one that Eroda has all but erased from history. And you.” Harry allowed himself to smile now, forgetting for a moment that Louis couldn’t see his face. “You were so special. You landed here, of all places, but you never lost your excitement or your smile. Eroda didn’t claim you the way it claimed me, the way it claimed all Peculiars before me. And I … I admit, I fell for you.”

Louis blushed, the beautiful pink rising to his cheeks quickly at Harry’s confession. “Oh, Harry …”

Harry rushed to continue, wanting to make sure he said it all. “You fascinate me, Lou. You make me want to smile again. I haven’t smiled in years. You make me feel … alive. And I know I sound crazy and I know you’re angry with me, and I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to protect you, because I thought if you knew what I knew, if you thought what I’ve been thinking about, that this place would take away your light, and I didn’t want that for you. I was selfish. I should have trusted you. And I hope …” Harry paused, swallowing hard as he turned to face Louis fully. “I hope you can forgive me for the pain and confusion I’ve caused you.”

Louis ducked his head, wiping at his eyes, and Harry felt a mixture of guilt and relief - Louis wasn’t pushing him away. He wasn’t yelling. Actually, he was reaching for him. 

Harry felt Louis’ hands take hold of his helmet, lifting it off his shoulders and over his head. Harry felt the wind on his face and breathed in the sea air, able to see Louis clearly now. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Louis said softly, almost in a whisper, and Harry closed his eyes as Louis’ fingertips brushed his cheeks. “You didn’t have to tell me all that. I … overreacted the first time. I should have listened to you, but I couldn’t see past you keeping my ring from me. But I understand now. And I don’t blame you. I would have done the same.” Louis was closer to him now, their foreheads nearly touching. “I believe you.”

Harry let out a breath, opening his eyes. His vision was completely obstructed by Louis’ shining blue eyes, and he reached up to wipe a tear off Louis’ cheek. His skin was impossibly soft. They were mere inches apart now, and Harry could almost feel the electricity between them, their lips close enough to touch.

In the briefest of moments where their lips met, Harry felt all of his guilt and pain and confusion wash away, replaced by something much more enjoyable, and much easier to bear - happiness. True happiness. Somewhere in the distance, or maybe closer, he heard the joyful sound of laughter.

As though in late reaction to their kiss, Harry gasped against Louis’ mouth, and Louis pulled away, his fingers playing with the curls at the base of Harry’s neck, keeping them close. 

“Did you hear that?” Harry asked, and he felt Louis shudder under his touch as Harry’s words ghosted over his still parted lips.

“Laughter …”

Harry felt like crying. In all his years, in every moment of his life that he could possibly recall here and now, he had never felt this way. 

He desperately wanted to kiss Louis again, but he felt like they still stood on fragile ground. As it was, they were sitting on the edge of a cliff, and he wanted away from that precipice. He stood slowly, lifting his helmet under one arm and offering the other hand to Louis. Louis took it and Harry pulled him up easily, their bodies colliding gently. Harry gave in to his desires for once and allowed himself another short kiss, electricity sparking where their lips met. Louis smiled up at him, and for the first time on Eroda, Harry felt warm. 

“C’mon. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Harry said, and he tightened his grip on Louis’ hand, leading him back across the grass, down to the place where, hopefully, they could start getting some real answers.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

_To feel a connection with another soul_

_Is one thing;_

_To truly feel with no boundaries and with everything you have_

_Is another._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments! They are much appreciated :)


	3. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 is here! Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry about that cliffhanger though ;)

_ A moment spent in love is _

_ A moment well spent. _

_ Shared knowledge brings to light _

_ Answers that have evaded even the brightest of minds _

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

“I can’t believe you did all this by yourself,” Louis said for what felt like the hundredth time, but somehow, Harry didn’t mind the repetition of it. The awe he could hear in Louis’ voice was enough to send his heart into overdrive. It was rare that he ever felt things so strongly, especially feelings like these - happy feelings. 

Harry had spent a majority of the last three days filling Louis in on everything he’d discovered over the years, which included his wall, the desk drawers full of notes, and the book about magic. Harry thought Louis would have been all over the magic book, but to his surprise, Louis didn’t seem to be all that surprised that magic existed. On the contrary, as soon as he saw the title of the book, his eyes had lit up for a moment, as though he recognized it. It was gone, however, and a grimace of pain had replaced it, and he had put it down, turning his attention to the wall, where Harry had pinned back the old wallpaper to reveal his work in all its glory. 

It had taken the better part of the first two days to get through everything Harry had already read and researched, but Louis had absorbed it quickly, taking down notes of his own as he noticed things. Harry found it quite endearing the way Louis bit down on his thumb when he was thinking, and the way his eyes lit up when he thought of something he wanted to mention. 

And here they were, at the end of the third day, and Harry’s mind was reeling. Louis had exposed a lot of new things that Harry hadn’t even thought about, and he had never been more glad to have someone to talk about this with. He needed more eyes than just himself. 

Of course, it wasn’t all research. The reason it had taken so long was because, hard as Harry tried to remain focused, Louis was irresistible. Harry wasn’t sure why, but since their moment on top of the cliff, he’d found himself paying closer attention to small details about Louis - the way his hips swayed slightly when he walked, the way his bottom lip was always slightly red from where he chewed on it - another thinking technique of his, the way his expression would go from concentrated to relaxed every time he looked up and met Harry’s eyes. Every time he did the latter, Harry couldn’t stop himself from leaning in for a quick kiss, which often went a bit further than they originally intended. 

Harry wondered vaguely if this was what being in love was like.

Hearing those words from Louis again prompted Harry to lean in from where he was settled on top of the desk and kiss Louis’ cheek. Blood rose to his cheeks - though he’d been quite forward, more so than he’d been with anyone his entire life, it still was a thrill to him to be doing anything like this, caring for another person in this way. Louis never seemed to mind Harry’s hesitant yet bold approach to physical contact. 

“I was thinking about something earlier - you said the magic book was left here?”

Harry nodded, bringing his mind back to research mode. “Yeah. I found it downstairs. It was just inside the door, all wrapped up and everything.”

Louis hummed, brushing his fingers over the worn cover of the book, which was sitting on the desk next to Harry’s hip. “Right. And … you have no idea who sent it? There wasn’t a note?   
  


“Nothing other than this little line,” Harry answered, sliding off the desk, where he’d been sitting for the last hour and nudging the chest of drawers slightly to the side so he could reveal part of his wall that had been behind it. He unpinned the note and handed it to Louis. 

Louis opened the magic book to the first page, where the intro was, and held the paper next to it, comparing. 

“It’s not the same handwriting, but … I mean, who else would send this to me other than the author?” Harry sighed. He’d gone over this so many times, he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head with the pressure. He was sure he was missing something important here, but even Louis seemed stumped.

“You’re right. It isn’t the same handwriting, but … it’s the same style. Almost as if the person who sent this was trying to force a connection that wasn’t really there in the first place.” He mused over the paper and the book, and then looked up at Harry, his blue eyes curious. “What’s this?”

He was pointing at the bottom corner of the note, where the weird sketch was. Harry sighed. “If I knew, I’d tell you. I just assumed it was a mess-up or some sort of insignia. I’ve tried comparing it to the ones I have, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. It’s useless.”

Louis stood then, and Harry watched as he wandered over to the open window. The rain had finally let up, leaving the sky a lighter shade of grey, but other than that, the outside world hadn’t changed much. Harry, however, felt less crushed under the blandness of Eroda - when Louis was there, looking beautiful, Harry felt light. 

Louis stood there, staring out the window, and Harry found himself going to the window himself, even though he knew there was nothing new to see. He’d been staring at the same landscape his entire life, but maybe, he thought, it helped Louis think to see the water, which Harry could hear, despite living relatively far from the docks. 

They stood there in silence for a while, just thinking. Harry’s mind was a whirlwind of new ideas and possible escape plans, but they were mixed in seamlessly with thoughts about Louis, about them, about what they could be. Harry almost felt bad for thinking about Louis so much, but at the same time, it felt like he’d always been doing it this way. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

Louis sighed and turned away from the window. “You’re right. Probably useless.” Nevertheless, Harry watched as he folded the note and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt. He said nothing - sometimes, he liked to keep things to himself, and he wasn’t going to stop Louis from doing the same. 

Harry went back to the desk and flipped uselessly through papers that they’d already read and reread. He didn’t know what else he could do, and he was going a little stir crazy. 

He looked up as Louis settled on his bed, looking a little pale. “H, I’m gonna just … lay down for a bit. My head really hurts.”

Harry thought he knew what Louis was feeling. Ever since they’d reconciled on the cliffs, Harry had had more frequent headaches, and the pain only intensified when he and Louis came to some sort of new conclusion. Even every time he looked at Louis, there was a persistent, dull pain. But he, Harry, was used to such pain. The chronic ache in his head had plagued him for most of his time on Eroda. But he knew that Louis was probably in a lot more pain that he was letting on.

He looked at Louis, who was now laying down, his back to Harry, and he decided. He may not have much experience with relationships, or even with friends, but he knew that when he was a kid, he always craved closeness and physical touch. 

Crossing the small space between the desk and the bed, Harry curled himself up behind Louis and pulled him close to his chest, so close that he could feel Louis breathing with him. Louis gave a small hum of appreciation and turned his head so Harry could see his bleary blue eyes. “You up for a cuddle, then?”

Harry nodded, pressing a small kiss to Louis’ temple. It felt right, holding Louis like this, giving him comfort, and Louis seemed to love it, because the tension he’d held in his body before seemed to dissipate, and he pushed himself closer to Harry, relaxing into his hold. Harry’s mind, so full and twisted with all of his research, was finally quieting down, his sole focus on the beautiful boy in his arms. He wouldn’t mind if he stayed here, like this, for the rest of his life. With that thought in mind, he let his eyes fall shut.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Two more days of staring at the same papers and his own handwriting had Harry extremely frazzled. Louis seemed to be in better spirits after their nice cuddling session, which they then made a nightly thing. Harry was glad for it - he didn’t like being away from Louis if he could help it. He still felt that strange connection he’d felt when he’d first saved Louis from his shipwreck, like something inside him was pulling him towards Louis. At that point, he thought it was just purely from being some sort of hero and wanting to be sure that Louis survived, but now, he had his suspicions that it might be more than that. 

But now, Harry was at a loss. He couldn’t think of anything they were missing, and they were at another dead end. Even the magic book wasn’t providing any answers. He felt restless, jittery, and the only thing he could think to do was go up to the top of the cliffs and scream himself hoarse into one of his empty jars. He just wanted to let it all out, all of his frustration despite the help he had. 

Louis had definitely noticed that he was off, because he asked if Harry was okay every ten minutes or so. Harry just kept nodding, hoping that maybe Louis would run out to get food or take a nap and he could sneak away. As much as he liked and trusted Louis, he didn’t want him to see that side of him. He didn’t want to scare away the one good thing he had in his life. 

“Harry, are you sure you’re alright?” Louis asked again, and Harry, giving up, just shook his head. 

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, but he should have known that Louis wouldn’t give up once he’d gotten the answer he wanted. 

“You don’t have to hide things from me, you know.”

Harry felt his eyes well with sudden tears. He knew that, of course he did, but hearing Louis say it made him feel equally guilty and relieved. This is why he’d never opened up to someone before - he didn’t like all these feelings trying to take over him all at once. Or maybe it was because no one had ever cared to try and understand him like Louis had. 

“Hey …” Louis’ voice was a whisper now, and Harry felt an arm go around his shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m here.”

Harry nodded, pressing his lips together, as though that would stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks. 

“I’m just … I don’t like being cooped up. I’m frustrated. I just want to …” Harry tried, wiping away his tears forcefully, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. 

“You want to scream?” Louis asked, and Harry looked up at him, blinking the tears out of his eyes. Louis’ mouth turned up in a small smile. “I remember. When you get frustrated, you scream into one of those jars.”

“I …”

“We can go do that. I don’t want you to feel miserable,” Louis said softly, pressing his lips to Harry’s cheek, effectively wiping away the tears that still lingered there. Harry let his eyes close momentarily, savoring the moment of intimacy. 

“Please,” he whispered, and Louis’ arm tightened around him. 

“C’mon, then, love. Let’s get out of this room. I think we both need it.”

A few minutes later, Louis and Harry were exiting through the back door of the inn, the cool sea air hitting their faces. Harry already felt better being out of that room, and even though he was not wearing his helmet this time - if he was being honest, he never really thought about wearing it when he was with Louis - he felt safe. That was, at least, until they reached the main street, which was their only way out of the main settlement of Eroda. 

The moment people caught sight of them, there was an audible gasp that rippled through the people. Kids stopped playing and watched as Harry and Louis walked by, and shops closed their doors and windows for good measure. Even the pub, who let in the nastiest of customers, was closing its doors. Harry saw the blonde hair of Peter just visible between the curtains of one of the windows. Those adults still on the streets backed away, some spitting on the ground, some shouting slurs. Harry even recognized a few of them.

“You’re still here? Pec scum!” shouted a voice from within the crowd, which seemed to rile everyone else up.

“Why don’t you and your Peculiar boyfriend go drown yourselves?” The minister, Marvin, had spoken, and though some ladies near him jumped in alarm, they were nodding in agreement.

“Better they jump off the cliffs, if you ask me,” added on another woman, and when Harry caught a glimpse of her, he felt bile rise in his throat. It was Miss Opal, the owner of the orphanage - the one that had kicked him out when he was barely old enough to understand life on his own. 

“William, the children!” Susan, the primary school teacher, ushered a group of children behind her. Some of them looked scared, others merely curious, but the sight of the group hiding from them both, as though they were monsters, made Harry feel sick.

Harry was all for putting his head down and walking faster - that was the only way to deal with them. He jerked to a stop, however, as Louis turned to face the small crowd that had now gathered on either side of the street. 

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at, talking about us like that?” Louis’ voice rang, and the people muttered amongst themselves. Harry tugged on Louis’ sleeve, silently begging him to leave it, but Louis was standing his ground. “We are people! Just like you. We should be able to walk these streets and be present without having to deal with all your bullshit remarks.”

“We don’t need filthy Peculiars like you ruining our utopia,” said a large man behind a fruit stand. If Harry remembered correctly, his name was Felix. His fruits looked days too old to be good. Louis turned to him furiously, taking a few steps in that direction. 

“Utopia? This place is horrible! You all do the same exact things every day and you treat people who aren’t from here like dirt. What about that is utopian? Fucking nothing.” Louis took a deep breath, as though yelling all that at these Erodians had taken a weight off his shoulders. Harry watched the now silent crowd, feeling a strange sense of what seemed to be fear coming from them. Louis turned back to him, holding his hand out. “Come on, H. Let’s go.”

This time, Harry didn’t hesitate to take Louis’ hand, and he could feel a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. People scattered as they continued up the street. As they passed a few of the last shops, Harry caught sight of the painting lady. She was painting furiously, her face splattered with specks of color, but as they passed, she looked up and made eye contact with Harry. He looked away hurriedly, following Louis out of town and towards the hills. 

“Louis, that was …” Harry began, but he didn’t have the words to express how he felt watching Louis stand up to the people that had nearly destroyed his life time and time again. 

“We don’t have to take that shit, Harry. We don’t have to sit there and let them talk horribly about us. We are people and we deserve to be treated with respect.”

“That’s not how they see it,” Harry mumbled, but Louis just shook his head. 

“Then we change how they see it.”

Harry stopped them as they neared the top of the hill, and as Louis turned around, confused, Harry cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. Louis went pliant against him, which made Harry want to kiss him harder. 

“You … are so … wonderful …” Harry whispered between the presses of their lips. Louis smiled, a laugh bubbling up from him, and Harry found himself smiling too. It was becoming easier to do that. 

“Jesus, H, save it for the bedroom, yeah?” Louis joked, and Harry pressed one more firm kiss to his mouth before letting him go and walking up over the crest of the hill. 

There they were, back at the spot that had been their first meeting. Over to Harry’s left was the fallen tree that served as his bench, and the sea extended beyond that, as gray as ever. Now that they were here, though, all the bravery and happiness that had filled Harry was dissipating into nerves, and he found himself twisting the bottom of his shirt between his hands as they made their way to the bench and sat down. 

They sat there for a few minutes, listening to the rustle of the dying grass and the crash of the waves on the rocks below, before Harry finally said something. 

“I, uh … here.” He reached beneath the bench and pulled out the two empty jars he’d left here before. They were a little dirty and filled with water from the rain, but Louis emptied his and then turned to Harry, expectant. Harry swallowed. “So, it’s … I mean, I want to get rid of it, all this … confusion and frustration and knots inside. And then I just … let it out?” Harry felt like an idiot, trying to explain this to someone, but Louis was listening intently to every word he said, and in that moment, Harry didn’t feel quite as embarrassed anymore.

He held his own jar up to his mouth, letting his eyes close. Everything he’d been bottling up since Louis’ arrival felt like boiling water building inside his chest. He could feel the spread of it, tingling up and down his legs and arms, even in his head. He opened his mouth and let it all out in one horrible yell, capping it as quickly as he could. He could feel tears on his face, but this time he didn’t wipe them away. He just sat there, staring at his jar, now full of emotions. 

Looking over, he saw Louis doing the same, and realized that they must have done it at the same time. That connection he always felt with Louis seemed even stronger now, like they’d taken some step further in their relationship, or whatever it was. 

“Wow. That felt … freeing?” Louis said, his words coming out questioningly, and Harry nodded, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that came with every jar he’d ever created. 

“Thank you for doing it with me.” 

“Thank you for letting me. I feel … closer to you, somehow.”

Harry felt warmth spread in his chest, filling his whole body. Never had someone made him feel the way Louis did, like he was filled with sunlight. They stored their jars under the bench with the others, taking in the scenery as they leaned against each other, just being. 

Louis suddenly gasped, leaping up from his seated position. He hurried to the edge of the cliff and Harry, fearing horrible endings to this journey, jumped up after him. He reached Louis as he was pulling something from his pocket. It was the note from the magic book, and Louis unfolded it, holding it up to the sky. 

The fog cleared momentarily and Harry could see the lighthouse, its light circling round and round as it guided ships through the murky waters. 

“Harry, we’re idiots. The drawing is a lighthouse!’

Harry snapped out of his momentary distraction, looking at Louis. “What?”

Louis held out the note so they could both see it, and he pointed at different parts of the scribble at the bottom. “See this? That’s the water at the base. And this is the light, right here.”

Harry looked between the paper and the lighthouse, which was slowly becoming obscured by fog again. He was in awe … he couldn’t believe that after all this time, they’d finally had a breakthrough. After all his years on Eroda, the answer was right in front of him the whole time. 

“We have to go there.”

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Harry was not at all surprised when the storm blew in. Of course, at the moment of his triumph and with a plausible lead ahead of him, he would be confined to his room, unable to even exit the inn without being swept away in the torrential rain and gusting wind. Not that there was much they could do immediately - neither of them had any idea how to get to the lighthouse - it was on the coast, but a lot of the coast was completely submerged in water, and walking around the entire island would take a full day at least. 

Louis had gone back over to his room almost an hour ago now to get some more paper, as they’d tried to distract themselves by writing down possible theories and new connections. But as lightning flashed in the perpetually dark sky, Harry stood, opening his door and making his way across the hall. 

Louis’ door was ajar, and Harry pushed it open all the way, his heart dropping as his eyes landed on Louis. He was sitting in a pile of paper, his arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked back and forth. Another clap of thunder made the building tremble and Louis winced horribly. Harry very nearly sprinted into the room, falling to his knees next to Louis and pulling him to his chest. 

“H-h-arry,” Louis stuttered, his hand gripping onto Harry’s jacket. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked carefully, not wanting to send Louis into a further spiral. He was used to taking care of him when he was asleep, in the throes of a nightmare, but a fully awake Louis panicking in his arms was new and terrifying. 

“The … the storm, it …” Louis breathed in shakily, clearly trying to calm himself down. Harry didn’t know what else to do other than keep him close. “I was fine, and then … it’s like my body remembers and my mind doesn’t …” 

Harry felt a sudden, sharp pain in his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the pain away. He was supposed to be here for Louis, to help him, not the other way around. But Louis had noticed, and Louis was nodding. 

“Just like that … it hurts. Make it stop hurting,” Louis begged, and Harry kissed his forehead, holding him closer still. 

“I’m sorry, Lou. I can’t,” Harry said, completely at a loss and feeling devastated that there was nothing he could do for the person he was beginning to love. 

“Then kiss me,” Louis said, almost too quietly for Harry to hear him. “Kiss me. That makes everything go away.”

Harry wasn’t one to deny Louis anything. After everything he’d been through and the times he had been refused such simple things as comfort, he couldn’t make himself put Louis through that. He repositioned himself and pressed his lips to Louis’, feeling Louis’ part instantly. 

The kiss, meant to be a source of comfort at first, quickly turned into more. Louis stopped shaking and instead pulled himself against Harry, kissing him more desperately. Harry felt himself growing hard beneath his trousers, and he couldn’t help a small moan from escaping his lips. 

Louis pulled away from him and Harry sat back against the wall, feeling slightly dizzy. Louis was offering him his hand, and Harry, needing to touch Louis again, took it. Louis walked backwards until he was climbing onto his bed, pulling Harry along with him. Harry went, letting his body fall against Louis’ as their lips found each other again. 

As Louis rolled on top of Harry, Harry felt a paralyzing fear grip him. He didn’t know what he was doing in the slightest - he had never had any kind of physical relationship with any person, let alone someone like Louis. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even touched himself like that. It had never seemed like something he should allow himself to have, because every other part of his life was made of misery. Louis, however, seemed to know exactly what he was doing, if his wandering hands were any indication.

“Wait … wait, Louis, stop,” Harry panted as their lips finally parted, and Louis did as asked, looking down at Harry with pupils blown wide, his breath just as labored. 

“Are you alright?” Louis asked, and Harry, unsure how to answer the question, squirmed underneath Louis until Louis got off him, and they were sitting back against the headboard, side by side. 

“I’ve never … well …” Harry began, but another flash of lightning followed by thunder interrupted him, and though Louis had been sufficiently distracted, he jumped a little, his shoulder jostling Harry’s. 

“Oh. That’s okay. I wasn’t … I mean, I shouldn’t have …” Louis sighed. “I’m sorry I kind of jumped on you like that. I didn’t do it for the right reasons, and I want to give you better than that.”

Harry sat there, shocked. He had been about to apologize for using Louis when he was vulnerable, but now that Louis had said that, he wasn’t sure how to proceed from there. “I … it’s not that I don’t want you to, umm, touch me. I do, I just …”

“Want to take it a bit slower, yeah?” Louis finished for him, and Harry nodded, scooting closer to Louis so their sides were pressed against each other. 

“Yeah …” Harry shuddered as his trousers brushed up against his erection, and Louis’ eyes moved down his body to it and then back to Harry’s face. 

“I can … but only if you want me to,” Louis said, stuttering slightly. Harry whined slightly and nodded, needing Louis to do something, anything. It was starting to hurt, how badly he wanted Louis, but he wanted Louis to want it too. If Louis was serious about wanting to touch him, Harry wasn’t going to say no. 

At Harry’s nod, Louis moved so he was laying down next to Harry, his hand traveling down Harry’s chest over his shirt. Harry threw his head back as Louis’ hand reached the waist of his trousers. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but Louis seemed calm as his eyes met Harry’s, asking silent permission to continue. 

As Louis moved his hand lower, cupping it over Harry, Harry let out a string of mumbled words he didn’t even understand, his hips pushing up into Louis’ hand. The more pressure Louis put on his cock, the better it felt, and the more Harry moved, craving the contact and chasing the pressure building in the lower part of his stomach. 

“Louis, please …” Harry gasped as Louis moved his hand away from Harry and back towards his waistband, but then his clever fingers slipped beneath his trousers and underwear, and Harry was completely overwhelmed. 

“Harry … you’re so responsive, fuck,” Louis whispered, and when Harry finally opened his eyes, he could see Louis’ other hand in his own trousers, tugging hard on his own cock as he brushed his hand over Harry’s own. 

Harry needed to do something other than lay there - he needed to move, he needed to release. He moved forward and kissed Louis harshly, the kiss more tongue and teeth than lips, but Louis responded. The storm raged outside, as strong and terrifying as ever, but neither of them paid it any mind, too caught up in each other. 

Louis’ hand was suddenly gone from him, and Louis had pulled Harry flush against him, their cocks brushing through layers of fabric, which didn’t deter from the intensity Harry felt spreading through his whole body. He felt like a spring ready to burst, and the sounds coming from him as Louis ground their hips together were unlike anything he’d ever made.

“Louis, I … I feel … _ fuck _ ,” Harry said, his voice higher than usual, and Louis nodded, kissing Harry gently. 

“It’s alright, H. Let it go … _ fuck _ , I’m right with you, just …” Louis grabbed Harry’s face and kissed him hard, and with one more jerk of his hips, Harry came, his body convulsing as Louis’ hips stuttered into his own with the force of his own release. Harry just lay there, Louis heavy on top of him, coming back to himself. What he was feeling right now was, for once, very clear. He was happy. He was satisfied. He was in love. He was sure that, when he had thought about it more, that conclusion would scare him, but right now, he couldn’t find it in him to care about anything other than Louis, who was smiling down at him with the softest of gazes, almost as if he were in love too. 

“Well, I guess distracting me from the storm got a little …” Louis began, his cheeks flushing red, and Harry found himself laughing almost deliriously. Louis’ beautiful laugh joined his, and they lay there together, kissing through their laughter.

“When we escape this island, I’m taking you far away from here,” Louis whispered against Harry’s lips, and Harry found his mind agreeing completely and utterly with Louis’ statement. Harry had imagined every single day about trying to leave, and he knew that, once they discovered what was going on in Eroda, they would find a way to achieve that goal. He had faith, and though he’d kept himself from allowing faith to enter his mind for many years, Louis had changed him. Louis had allowed him to feel without always despising what he felt, and he had never been more grateful. 

“I’ll go wherever you go,” Harry whispered in return.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

As they entered day four of the storm, which seemed to be never ending, Harry started to get hungry. They hadn’t been out for food in the last three days, unable to get anywhere in this weather. They’d survived on the scraps they’d collected the week before, which meant minuscule portions of increasingly gross fish three times a day just to keep them satisfied. 

“I’m going to have to go out there,” Harry said, tugging on another coat on top of the one he was already wearing. He was dreading it, knowing that it would be very unlikely anyone would have left food out in this mess, but he had to try. He was used to going days without food, but he didn’t think Louis was, and for whatever reason, even though Louis told him every day that he was just happy to be with him and be able to help him, Harry wanted to impress and take care of Louis as much as he could. 

“H, I can’t let you go out there alone. What … what if …” Louis trailed off, and Harry knew where his fear was coming from. Despite the things they’d done just two nights ago, Louis hadn’t been cured of his fear of storms. But he could also see Louis getting thinner - not by much, but enough that he noticed, and he couldn’t let it continue. Not if he could help it. 

“I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t worry about me.”

As Harry stood, reaching for his helmet, there was a knock at his door. Both men froze, unsure of what they’d heard. Harry had never once had a visitor, at least, not one that knocked before entering. They waited in silence, hoping it was just a trick of the storm, but the knock came again, a little more persistent. Harry looked over at Louis, but Louis shook his head. Harry took a few steps towards the door, putting his hand on the wobbly knob. He pulled it open a crack, peering into the dingy hall.

A soaking wet boy stood before him, his arms full with a bundle of material. Harry opened the door a little more, Louis coming up behind him. 

“Peter?” Harry asked, and the boy finally made eye contact with him. He jumped slightly, and Harry remembered then that he wasn’t wearing his helmet. Peter hadn’t ever seen him without it. They stood there, sizing each other up, and then Peter seemed to snap out of his reverie, and he held out the bundle. 

“I b-brought this for you. Hadn’t seen you in a minute, and I … Papa was throwing it all out, so I figured … here.” Peter’s nose was twitching as Harry accepted the pile of what he thought was clothes, but the smell hit him as soon as he held it. He could smell bread and cooked fish and potatoes, among other things. 

Harry passed it behind him to Louis before turning back to Peter, who was twisting his hands together, shivering. Harry removed his coat and handed it to Peter, who took it, his eyes wide as he stared at it. 

“Don’t catch cold on my account, please,” Harry said softly, and Peter nodded, pulling the coat over his shoulders. It was a little too big for his tall, lanky frame, but he wore it anyway, turning away to follow his watery footprints back the way he’d come. 

“Peter, wait!” Louis had returned from depositing the food in Harry’s room, and Peter turned back, looking almost fearful. Louis offered him a smile, and Peter looked even more scared, but that didn’t deter Louis. “Thank you. This means so much, to both of us.”

Peter blinked, nodded once, and disappeared down the dark staircase. Harry waited for a few moments before a thought occurred to him, and he found himself sprinting down the stairs, just managing to catch Peter at the bottom of several flights. 

“Peter … have you ever been to the lighthouse?” Harry asked, and at once, Peter’s expression changed. Harry swore he could detect fear there. 

Peter shook his head. “I was told never to venture that far. It’s dangerous. Erodians don’t go there.”

Harry blinked, processing that information. If anything, it just made him more determined to figure out how he and Louis were going to get there. If Erodians were being taught to pretend it wasn’t there at all, that was another sign that whatever mysterious things made this island what it was had to be related to it. 

Harry nodded and held the door open for Peter as he rushed into the pouring rain, pulling Harry’s jacket up over his head to protect himself. He then made his way back to his room, the smell of nearly fresh food filling their nostrils as he entered and closed the door behind them. 

“That was …” Harry started, unsure of what to say or how to react. Never before had an Erodian gone out of their way to help Harry in any way. Even when Peter had left food for him behind the restaurant, they had never interacted. It had always been a silent exchange, almost under cover. Harry had always understood - Peter’s father was one of the older generation, and though he hadn’t openly ridiculed Harry, he hadn’t protected or stood up for him either. Peter had always been different, though. Kind, as much as he could be. Harry had watched him grow up, which felt weird, considering Peter was only a few years younger than himself. It was strange, even to this day, that he’d stayed kind when so many others had shunned Harry. 

“He’s very kind, isn’t he? Not like the others,” Louis commented, starting to unwrap the fabric to reveal a whole feast of foods.

“You’re right,” Harry mused, and as they sat down, deciding what to eat and what to save for later, he wondered what has possessed poor Peter to trek here in the middle of a hurricane - for Harry couldn’t think of what else to call this storm - to bring a Peculiar like him food. Maybe not everyone in Eroda was as anti-Peculiar as he’d always believed. Or maybe things were starting to change.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

“You want to stop?” Harry heard Louis call from just ahead of him, but Harry merely shook his head. Then, figuring that Louis hadn’t turned around to see him, he yelled into the wind. 

“No! We’re almost there. It can’t be much further!”

Harry paused momentarily to pull a stray piece of hair out of his mouth and trudged on, trying to catch up. 

The storm had finally blown over after the fifth day, and now all that was left was a bitter wind that tore at their clothes, hair, and skin. But neither of them had cared. The moment they could walk outside without being soaking wet or wading in the flooded streets, they had packed up some fish jerky and stale bread and headed off to the coast.

Louis had figured that the best way to figure out how to get to the lighthouse was to follow the water, because they were bound to get to the edge of the curve of Eroda eventually, and Harry had agreed. It was a lot easier to walk along the sand instead of braving the rocky cliffs that bordered their walk on the left. He had been wrong, however. Sometimes, the sand disappeared completely and they found themselves practically swimming through icy water, soaking their clothes and slowing down their process. 

The wind had dried them rather quickly, but now they were shivering and wincing as their salt-stiff clothes brushed against skin. Harry was determined. It was getting darker, which meant that it was either nearing dusk or there was another storm on the horizon. He wasn’t sure which one he feared more, but Louis being with him made him more sure that they were making the right choice by seeking this out. They needed answers, and this lighthouse was going to give them, one way or the other. 

Harry kept repeating those words to himself like a mantra - he needed something to hold onto. If they had come this far for nothing, he wasn’t sure he would be able to come back from the disappointment, not even with Louis by his side. 

They had departed from the beach only a few minutes ago, heading up the rocky path on the side of a particularly steep cliff. Louis thought the lighthouse must be right above them, and Harry had to agree. They had lost sight of it ages ago, but Harry had this feeling in his chest, like the one he constantly had around Louis, but it was more than that. Something was pulling him upward - there was something up there that he had to see. 

He finally caught up with Louis and, out of instinct, grabbed his hand. He felt Louis’ fingers tighten around his hand, and they paused, mere steps from the top of the imposing wall of rock. 

“We’re almost there …” Harry said slowly, the anxiety of possibly being in the wrong about everything suddenly consuming him. Louis’ lips turned up in a smile and he pulled Harry closer. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. 

“Whatever happens up there, you’ve still got me. Don’t forget that, yeah?” Louis’ voice was soft, but they were so close that Harry could hear and feel every word, even over the wind. 

“Yeah,” Harry responded, not knowing what else to say. He knew Louis could sense his doubts, but he didn’t say anything else. He just lifted Harry’s hand to his mouth and kissed it once, twice, three times, before letting him go and moving forward once more. 

As Harry’s head came above the edge of the cliff, the wind became twice as strong, nearly blowing him off balance, but he steadied himself. Louis was standing above him, on flat, dry grass, and Harry took the last few steps to join him, staring at the massive tower of rock in front of him.

The lighthouse.

They’d made it. 

Harry looked over at Louis, who looked back at him, the beginnings of a smile on his face. Harry’s limbs went momentarily numb and he stumbled, but Louis was there, arms going around him, and they stood there together, shivering. Now that Harry wasn’t exerting any energy, the cold was seeping into his bones, but while he stood there, wishing that he could feel the sun on his back, he also felt this spark inside. After everything he’d been through, alone and with Louis, they’d finally found some sort of lead. It was high time they checked to see if it was worth anything. 

Harry walked forward but reached back for Louis’ hand, taking it in his own and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Louis looked up at him, his smile growing, and together, they made their way to the ivy covered base of the lighthouse. 

“I find it strange that I didn’t know this was here - I feel like I should have seen it on my way towards Eroda. Not that I remember a lot of it, but …” Louis trailed off as they came closer and closer to the imposing structure. Harry hadn’t thought of that, but now that Louis mentioned it, he did have to wonder. Most of the trade ships came in from the other side of the island, where they couldn’t see the lighthouse either. Did it even have a purpose? Or was it a placeholder for something more? Whatever the reason, it hadn’t stopped Erodians from building it here, at the top of the lowest and most dangerous cliff. 

“I don’t know, Lou. It’s … weird that it’s even here at all. We don’t have a lot of ships coming in by night,” Harry responded, reaching out to touch the damp stones with his fingers. He felt like his entire body was tingling, like the aftershock of a lightning strike, and he pulled his hand away quickly. Louis raised his eyebrow and reached out for himself. His reaction was slower than Harry’s; his hand lay flat against the rock for a full ten seconds before he pulled it away, shaking it out and looking up at Harry through strands of wet, windswept hair. 

Harry blinked hard, his temples throbbing as he looked away from Louis. For a second, but just barely a second, he could have sworn he’d seen those eyes before, and not recently. The memory, or whatever it was, seemed older than that. But that didn’t matter right now - they were here for a reason, and the more time they spent outside, the colder and stiffer Harry became. 

“C’mon. There’s got to be an entrance around here somewhere.”

Louis followed Harry as he made his way slowly around the base of the lighthouse, letting his fingertips brush against the ivy, as though it would guide him to a door. He closed his eyes as well, trying to shield his eyes from the high spray of salt water below them. 

And then his fingers closed around a doorknob. 

His eyes flew open and his grip tightened, sure he had conjured up his own fantasy with his mind, but Louis was looking too, his eyes wide with anticipation. Harry moved some ivy aside, but there was a clear outline of a door that must have been opened recently - as Harry looked closer, the vines had been cut so that the door could be opened without issue, but left there as a camouflage. As if anyone would be crazy enough to venture up here other than Peculiars. 

“Maybe it’s a trap?” Louis said, and though, deep down, Harry agreed with that fear, he didn’t want to let it consume his mind. He wanted to hold on to the optimism and faith that had slowly but surely taken hold of him over the last few days and never let it go. 

“We’ve come this far. We have to go in.”

Louis’ mouth tightened, but he nodded, putting his hand on top of Harry’s as they pulled the door outward and open, exposing a dark, imposing doorway leading to the unknown. The fear in Harry’s stomach was mixed with something else - anticipation - and that alone gave him the strength to walk through it, feeling Louis right behind him as they were swept up by the darkness of the lighthouse. 

As they entered, a particularly strong gust of wind slammed the door closed behind them, and they were left in near total darkness. Harry reached for Louis’ hand, and they stood still, adjusting to the dark. 

“Do you think … we’re locked in?” Louis whispered, and for the first time since Harry had found Louis laying on the beach, Louis sounded scared. Harry swallowed down his fear, squinting around for some source of light. He snapped his head back to the left, a flicker of what seemed to be candlelight catching his attention, and without a word, began to move towards it. 

He couldn’t explain it, but even though he was terrified, something told him he was in the right place. He was finally somewhere that could give him answers. It had been a long time since he’d been sure of anything, but he could feel it from his head down to his toes - this was where they needed to be. 

As they walked further, the light became brighter, casting shadows on the dark stone walls, and every so often, Harry spotted a painting. They were landscapes, for the most part, showing an angry ocean tearing apart a ship or a plate of food half eaten on a long table, but some had people in them. Harry saw a green eye in one before shadows swallowed it up and they found themselves entering a small room. 

The candlelight made it seem more ominous than it really was, Harry was sure. For the most part, it looked comfortable. There were a few old chairs and a rickety bed in one corner, covered by a multicolored quilt. And the books - so many books. They lined the walls and overflowed out of drawers and onto the blanket-covered floor. Harry spun around, daring to look up, but if there was something up there, he couldn’t see it. A spiral staircase led into the darkness, but it was so rusted with age and layered with dust from disuse that he did not trust it to hold their weight.

Harry found Louis’ eyes, which were full of the same awe that he was feeling, and he found himself smiling. 

“We made it, Lou.”

Louis grinned, moving forward swiftly and grabbing Harry’s face in his hands. Harry melted into Louis’ grip as their lips met in a sweet, chaste kiss. 

“These books could tell us everything … anything,” Harry gasped as that thought came to him, and Louis was already moving forward, his hands reaching for the leather-bound volumes, running his fingers over titles. Harry picked up one particularly heavy book, narrowing his eyes so as to read the gold-embossed title on the cover. 

_ The Complete History of Eroda And … _

The last word was rubbed clean off, but in his heart, Harry knew. This was what they had come for. 

“I knew you would come.”

Harry’s heart stopped as a new voice echoed around the room. He turned slowly, the book still in his hands. His throat closed in fear as he spotted a silhouette very near another narrow hallway that he hadn’t seen when they’d come in. 

“Who … who are you?” Louis asked, and Harry was glad Louis was able to vocalize that question, because he couldn’t. He felt strangely lightheaded, like he was about to pass out. He forced himself to take a breath, albeit a shallow one, and stayed where he was. 

“I have been known by many names over the years,” the voice said. Harry thought it sounded female, but in the same respect, it was deep and radiated power. He couldn’t be sure. “I exist just on the edge of society, observing and learning. I have been watching you for quite some time, Harry Styles.”

Harry flinched horribly at the sharp pain in his head. He had never had a last name, but the way the person was speaking, it was almost as if they were sure that they were speaking the truth, and the name itself sent a shudder of strange, unfathomable recognition through Harry, even though he had no memory of ever hearing that name before. 

He felt a hand on his back and part of him relaxed, knowing it was Louis and knowing he was safe with Louis there, but he still felt like he might collapse at any moment. 

“You still haven’t told us your name,” Louis persisted, his tone a little sharper now, and the silhouette moved, coming towards them. 

In the moments before her face was revealed, Harry thought he knew what might be coming. The gentle lilt of her voice, the movement of her body, the delicacy of the shadows of her fingers. The paintings on the walls.

And then she stepped into the light, and both of them gasped, staring at someone they knew only too well, and yet, didn’t know at all. 

The painting lady smiled at their shock, taking a paintbrush out from behind her ear and setting it on a paper-covered desk. Her dark skin shone strangely in the light cast by the candles, and her hair was starting to spring free from where she’d tied it back. She looked as she always looked, but Harry felt a mysterious air surrounding her. 

“I am Deloria, painter of Eroda. And I think I’m right in saying that you need my help.”

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

“But how … how did you know … what’s .... what?” Harry stammered, his head in his hands as he tried to process through his headache. 

They had stood there in silence for a few moments before Harry had very nearly collapsed into the closest chair, his entire body feeling like it was burning. But Deloria had put a hand on his shoulder and the pain had passed. Now they were sitting in some kind of circle, and Louis’ hand was on his thigh, a small but very necessary reminder that he was right there. 

“I know you both must have many questions for me, and I will more than likely be able to answer them all. But first, I need to know how much you know.” Deloria’s voice was soft and alluring, but it made Harry’s head hurt worse. He just wanted to close his eyes and fall into the darkness of his dreams, which he never desired, but this was all so much. 

“Why is that important?” Louis asked, his voice strained, as though he were in pain too, and taking the words right out of Harry’s mouth. He just wanted answers. He had wasted so much of his life already searching for things that seemed to evade him at every turn. Now that he was finally here with someone who had real answers, he didn’t want to use precious time recounting the things he had already worked over a thousand times in his mind. 

“It’s important that we know how much information is out in Eroda for public consumption. If anyone got close to what’s going on here, there would be riots. People would panic. We can’t have that. What you know, and what is discussed in this place, cannot be repeated. Do you understand?”

Harry finally looked up from his lap, making direct eye contact with Deloria. Her gaze was steady, and there was something hidden behind her eyes that he couldn’t quite grasp. “We don’t know a lot, detail wise. I know there’s another island, but I have yet to figure out its name. I know that Eroda has to have some kind of magic - I was given a book by someone …” He trailed off as Deloria smiled slightly. “It was you, then?”

Her smile widened. “I thought you might be getting close, so I hoped to speed you along in your discovery. Very few people know the secrets that Eroda has dutifully kept for hundreds of years. You seemed trustworthy.”

Harry felt something then. It was rare, no, completely insane to him, that any adult would value his thoughts or that they would trust anything he had to say. He was a Peculiar. No one wanted him around. 

He felt tears brim in his eyes as he forced those words out of his mouth. Deloria gave them both a sad smile. 

“It must have been hard all these years, thinking you were the odd one out. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Harry, and you as well, Louis, are extraordinary. You have gifts that I can’t even begin to explain properly.”

Harry finally forced his gaze away from Deloria and found Louis’ eyes. He needed that moment to ground himself. He could tell that Louis was scared as much as he was, but he also knew that Louis wanted answers as well. They had to get them. 

“Then tell us. What’s going on in Eroda?”

Deloria took a moment to drink the hot liquid from a cup that Harry hadn’t seen until then. It must have been there when they’d arrived, but he’d been so overwhelmed with the books and the information he could learn that he’d been less than observant to his surroundings. 

  
“You must understand that it is a lot. There is magic at work here, and some of this information might pain you to learn. I can already see that being here, in this place, in my presence, is hurting you. But if you want to learn, you have to fight it.”

Harry looked at Louis, and Louis nodded. They were in agreement, then. Harry turned back to Deloria and nodded once more, and she set her cup down, folding her long fingers together and placing them in her lap. 

“I suppose we shall start with the obvious - Eroda is thriving with magic. Most places are, as a matter of fact, but on Eroda, things are a bit different.” She eyed them both, seeing if there was any change in their demeanor, but Harry was still staring at her, eagerly listening and ignoring the consistent pain behind his eyes. “Eroda has controlled the use of its magic for many years. There was once a time when magic could be used by anyone and everyone, in whatever way they saw fit, but Eroda put a stop to that. These days, magic is contained in a few remote spots on the island, this being one of them. Only certain people are given access to it, and those people never speak of it to anyone. But there are people that come here that have already mastered magic, and aren’t necessarily bound by Eroda’s rules. I’m talking, of course, about the Peculiars.”

Harry knew his eyes were wider than they’d ever been, but he couldn’t help it. It was like every single moment of doubt and confusion and surety turned to devastating depression had been leading up to this discovery. He’d been right. Everything he’d ever guessed about Eroda was correct. 

“So you’re saying that we - Harry and I - can use magic?” Louis asked, his voice filled with awe and a little disbelief. 

“Certainly. You come from a place where magic is free, existing in every person and in the very air you breathe. Here, that is considered an abomination, and thus, makes you Peculiar. Erodians are uncomfortable with your existence, as it threatens their own.”

“But how? We didn’t ask for this - I don’t even know how I …” Harry trailed off, feeling faintly sick as his head gave a sudden throb. Louis’ hand tightened on his thigh, and Harry could only guess that Louis was feeling that pain too. He really just wanted it to stop.

“Don’t strain yourself quite yet, Harry. The magic of this place, that which is controlled by The Elders, dampens the memory of any outside place. Those headaches you get, it’s your brain trying to force memories through that barrier. You both hold everything you need to know right inside your own minds. It’s just a matter of breaking through Eroda’s magic.” Deloria sounded so calm, and yet with every word she uttered, Harry became that much more terrified. 

“So … what can we do?” Louis finally asked, interrupting the silence. 

Deloria looked between them and then around her, as though someone was about to come bursting into the small room, demanding for their arrests. “It is a long process. There are many experimental ways, none of which we can get into now. But if you are to figure out the mysteries of this place and escape, you’ll need your minds safe and unaffected by Eroda.” She cleared her throat and stood. “There isn’t much more I can say without risking The Elders finding out that we’ve met. You’ll have to leave, I’m afraid.”

The mere thought of going back out into the bitter wind, especially at night, made Harry feel worse than the headaches. He stood as well, swaying slightly on the spot. “I understand. But it’s dusk now, and too dark for us to try and make it back along the shore. Could we … would you mind if we stayed somewhere? At least for a few hours.”

Louis nodded in agreement, standing up next to Harry, as if to show a united front to this woman, who was still quite the unknown entity. 

“I suppose a few hours’ sleep would do you both some good. Please, make yourselves comfortable. But in the morning, you must leave, before we are discovered.”

Harry promptly sat back down in his chair, his eyes already half closing in his exhaustion. Louis, however, repositioned some of the blankets and borrowed pillows from the bed, beckoning for Harry to join him. Harry wanted to. He needed to feel Louis’ arms around him, just for a little. He was getting that feeling again, the tugging in his gut. It only dissipated when he was close to Louis, as though his body craved closeness with just one person.

As they curled up on the floor together, Louis pressed his lips against Harry’s ear. “This is it, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded, already half asleep. But even as his eyes drifted closed and his mind turned to dreams, he had a moment of sheer relief. They’d finally found a lead that wasn’t a dead end. They were here. They were learning things. That was all Harry had ever wanted, and now he had Louis there with him. It had all been worth it. “Mmm, Lou. Yeah, t’is.”

In the moments before he finally left reality behind, Harry had never been more grateful that he was still alive. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Harry woke up shivering. 

The bitter wind had howled all night, preventing Harry from getting more than an hour of sleep, and even though Louis was pressed tight against his back, Harry still felt a chill surrounding him. He sat up, feeling completely drained in every sense of the world. It was almost like a hangover, but worse - he could feel the ache in his very bones. 

“Lou … Louis, we should go,” Harry whispered, feeling that voicing his thoughts any louder might cause something to happen. Louis stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Harry could barely see him through the gloom of the now dark room. 

They were silent, listening to the wind outside, as they tried to ready themselves. Louis looked awful - there were bags under his eyes and he looked much thinner in this light. Harry was almost afraid to take his hand. 

“We should leave … something doesn’t feel right about this place,” Louis said after a while, and Harry had to agree. As much as he wanted to stay and find Deloria and have her explain everything, he felt it too - it was more than the wind. It almost felt evil, empty, and despite being desperate for information, Harry wanted as far away from it as possible, before it took hold of him. 

They felt their way back the way they’d come hours before, stumbling over things every few moments, until Harry felt the doorknob with his hip and shoved the door open against the wind. Louis barely made it through the space before it slammed shut, leaving the door almost completely invisible among the tangle of vines and waist high grass. 

As they fought their way to the side of the cliff, Harry found himself turning back, staring at the structure before them. In the morning gloom, it looked much darker and more dangerous than it had upon their initial sighting of it. He turned back only to find Louis watching him. 

“We’ll come back, H. I promise.”

He didn’t sound convinced, but Harry appreciated that he was willing to bring him back, even with his hesitation. He nodded and took Louis’ hand, and together, they made their way back towards Eroda. 

As they walked and struggled and were soaked to the skin by sea water, Harry realized that he felt a big heavy, like there was a weight pressing down on him. Almost like there was someone watching his every move. And the further they got from the lighthouse, the more he felt like he and Louis were puppets, and they were doing exactly what this faceless force wanted of them. It put him on edge, and he could tell that Louis felt something off as well. 

It was just a matter of figuring out what it could be, and why it only seemed to affect them. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

  
  


It had been over a week since they’d been to the lighthouse, and Harry was becoming restless once more. He and Louis hadn’t spoken about Deloria since their trip home, and Harry had a feeling that Louis was avoiding the subject. Every time they’d get even close to it, Louis would change the subject or kiss him. Harry, of course, wasn’t opposed to the second course of action, but with how long it had been now, he was starting to get antsy. After how long he’d waited for answers, he wanted them all as soon as possible, even with the mysterious feelings surrounding the place. 

“H, did you wanna go up to the hills today? It’s supposed to be nicer, according to the telly. No storms for a few days. Thought we’d make a picnic of it?” Louis asked on the ninth day after the lighthouse. It was the first time Louis had suggested they do something outside, and Harry was more than willing. He didn’t blame Louis though - they were still feeling the effects of their trip. He felt like all the will to live had been drained right out of him, and with the amount of naps Louis had been taking, he was sure Louis was the same. But something had changed - it wasn’t as easy to talk to Louis now, at least, not about the lighthouse or the magic or Deloria. Maybe this trip would be what they both needed to get back to that place. 

They practically dragged themselves through the streets and up into the hills. Louis was lagging, still looking exhausted, and Harry felt like he’d run three marathons, his body was so tired. They finally reached the bench that Harry had begun to coin  _ their _ bench, and collapsed on it.

“I … I feel a bit rubbish,” Louis mumbled, more to himself than to Harry, but Harry still reached for him, pulling him to his side and resting his head on top of Louis. 

“Maybe we just need food,” Harry suggested half heartedly, and Louis nodded, extracting himself from Harry’s arms and beginning to spread out the picnic they’d brought. Harry was just kneeling down when there was a tinkle of breaking glass. One of the jars that had been hiding under the bench had come loose, and Harry’s foot had hit it. It shattered as it bounced and hit a rock a little further down, and suddenly, Harry felt this rush of warm air hit him. His energy went from zero to one hundred, and he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When he opened them, the whole of Eroda, which was spread out before them, looked a little brighter. 

Louis looked like he’d slept for a century. His skin was practically glowing, and he was smiling again. He wondered if this sudden change had anything to do with the broken jar, but there was nothing in them. They were just a metaphorical way of Harry letting out his frustrations and pent up emotions. Whatever had happened, this picnic had been his best idea yet. They’d needed this, for sure. 

Harry sighed happily and knelt down on the blanket Louis had laid out for them. They enjoyed their food in much better spirits, and when they were full and satisfied, and Louis was laying with his head in Harry’s lap, Harry finally had the guts to bring it up. 

“Lou, I’ve been thinking … I want to go back.”

“Back where, babe?” Louis asked, his eyes half closed as Harry’s fingers carded through his hair. Harry hadn’t realized he’d been doing it, but it felt right. 

“To the lighthouse. To see Deloria.”

Louis’ body went tense, but he stayed where he was. “Don’t you think it’s a bit soon?”

Harry looked down, bewildered. “Umm … well, not exactly? I mean, I’ve been searching for answers for so long that it just feels like I should be learning them. Now that I have the opportunity, I mean.”

Louis didn’t say anything, and Harry felt his anxiety creeping up his body, constricting his throat. “Do you … did you not want to, then?”

Louis sat up, turning to face Harry, and Harry almost shrank beneath his intense gaze. 

“I just … okay, H, don’t be upset with me, but … I don’t trust her.”

“Why not?” 

“Something about her just doesn’t sit right with me.” Harry bit his lip, trying to work out how Louis had come to this conclusion, and how he hadn’t seen it coming. But Louis was still talking. “She’s been here the whole time. You said so yourself, you’ve seen her painting your entire life. So why did she choose now to present herself to you, to us? It doesn’t make sense.”

“The time wasn’t right,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice even. For some reason, he wanted to defend Deloria - she hadn’t done anything wrong, and Louis was just having a go at her, questioning her methods?

Louis just shook his head. “I’m sorry, love. I wish I trusted her like you do, but I can’t help but feel that something’s off about this. I don’t know if I want to go back.”

Harry then felt an emotion that was rare at the best of times, but definitely one he’d never felt towards Louis - anger. He didn’t know what to do with it, and it came out in his words. He felt like he was spitting fire and couldn’t make it stop. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to go without you. She hasn’t done anything bad, Lou, and you’re questioning her like she’s wronged us in some way. Like she’s lying to us. You don’t even know her!”

“Neither do you!” Louis shouted back, and Harry felt his hands clench at his sides. His euphoria from earlier, his sudden burst of energy, was gone now, replaced by this empty sort of rage. 

Louis stood, wrapping his arms around himself. He’d forgotten to bring an overshirt. Harry wanted to stand up and cuddle him until he was warm, but his frustration kept him rooted to his spot, still sitting on the blanket. 

“Where are you going?” Harry very nearly demanded, not recognizing the voice coming out of his own mouth. Louis’ eyes flashed at it, and Harry shrank away instinctively. 

“Just need to clear my mind.”

“Wait, Lou, don’t go. I’m sorry, let’s talk ab-”

“No. Just think about this - if she really wanted to help people like us, why did she wait until you’d already been on the brink of death to even begin to offer her expertise?”

With those words ringing in his ears, Harry watched Louis march away through the waving grass. He felt the anger ebbing away as the reality of what had just occurred sank in. He and Louis had never argued before. In fact, Harry had never argued with anyone. The mixture of emotions in his stomach and his chest didn’t feel right, and he lay back in the grass, feeling tears well up in his eyes. 

Louis had never mentioned Harry’s attempt on his own life. They’d talked about it that one time, and it had never been brought up again. In a way, Harry had been grateful, because he didn’t quite know how to describe where he’d been then and where he was now, because he still felt like he was living two separate lives - one where he wanted nothing more than to be dead, and another where he had an insane urge to live. The battle of those opposing desires kept him up at night, pulling at the deepest parts of Harry’s mind until he went nearly mad with it. But Louis had a small point - Deloria had been watching him, she’d admitted to that. Surely, she’d picked up on what was going on inside him - he hadn’t done much to hide it, not that anyone cared. 

He hadn’t wanted to hurt Louis or invalidate his feelings, but he was just so sure that Louis’ dislike for Deloria was about him not understanding her position. She had done what she could until Harry could come to her. It wasn’t like he could just stop by her while she was painting and have a conversation about magic in the middle of the street, where any Erodian could hear them and report them to these mysterious Elders. Louis hadn’t been here as long as Harry. He hadn’t struggled to find his place. He hadn’t tried to take himself out of the world. He hadn’t been researching his entire life only to reach dead ends. He didn’t  _ understand _ . 

But maybe he did. Harry didn’t know where Louis had come from, or what experiences he’d had before arriving on Eroda. To be fair, Louis didn’t seem to remember any of them anyway, but Harry knew too well that the body remembered more than the mind, especially here, where magic of all kinds was at work. 

In that moment, Harry knew what he had to do. In his heart, he cared more about Louis and fixing this than he did about learning secrets. With Louis, those secrets weren’t the only thing keeping him afloat in this world, and he couldn’t lose Louis. Not now, not ever. 

He stood, gathering their things and stuffing them into the backpack he’d brought. He thought about picking up the glass from the jar they’d broken, but there was nowhere for him to put it. Maybe it would stay there as a reminder that good things were so easily broken. 

Making his way down the hill alone felt wrong, and that only encouraged him to go faster. He was sure Louis would be waiting for him back in his room, and all he could think about was holding Louis in his arms and apologizing for the things he’d said, for not listening. 

Harry finally made it to the outskirts of town, but the streets seemed strangely deserted. He listened closely and could hear jeers and shouts coming from a bit further in. Fear gripping him, he hurried through the streets, finally seeing the back of a large crowd. He forced his way through, people parting as they realized who was brushing up against them. 

In the middle of the crowd, two older teens had hold of Louis. Fists were flying and words echoed off the buildings, but all Harry could see was Louis, crouched on the ground, doing his best not to get knocked out as the two boys wailed on him, connecting with every available inch of body. 

For the first time, Harry physically felt courage rise within him. All he could think of was getting Louis away from those boys, and before he knew it, he was diving into the fray himself, pulling the boys off of Louis with all the strength he possessed. He heard one slam into the other, both falling against the aging brick wall of the salon. 

He knelt over Louis, touching his face gently. Louis moved his arms, which were protecting his face, but it hadn’t done a lot of good. He had a busted lip and a cut above his eye that was trickling blood over an already forming bruise and into his eye. He looked terrified, and as badly as Harry wanted to comfort him then and there, he had to say something. 

“This has to stop. We’ve done nothing to deserve this. Leave, now.”

The authority in his voice surprised even him, and the shock only grew as the crowd dissipated. The two attackers had melted into the crowd, and Harry couldn’t have picked them out if he tried. But Louis was more important, and he turned back to him, his hands shaking as he tried to figure out how to help him. 

“Louis, I … I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have … and I just let you go … fuck, are you alright?” Harry stumbled over his words. He was afraid to touch Louis for fear that he was more injured than he was letting on. Louis was staring up at him with a look of wonder in his eyes. 

“Me? You just stood up to all those people after they tortured you for years. You’ve never ...”

Harry felt the heat rising to his cheeks and he ducked his head. Louis’ words always managed to make him feel warm inside. “I had to. They were hurting you.”

Louis wiped the blood from his eye, struggling to his feet and leaning into Harry for support. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. I know how much this means.”

Harry found himself smiling slightly as he guided Louis towards an alley that would take them back to the inn. It was still a while away, and with Louis limping slightly it was going to take them a bit longer than usual. Thankfully, the Erodians seemed to be heeding his words because even the busiest of streets were now silent. 

“We don’t always have to agree.” Harry paused as Louis stopped moving, his face contorted with pain as his foot got stuck momentarily in one of the many potholes littering the streets.

Louis shook his head. “I should trust you. And if you trust Deloria, then so do I. Besides, I want to get out of here just as much as you do, and she’s our only hope.” 

They walked for a while longer, and when Harry saw the inn in the distance, he allowed himself a small moment of relief. They’d made it. He was only now noticing the places where the attackers had managed to get in a shot or two on him. His left shoulder felt tight and he could feel a bruise forming on his ribs, but he didn’t care. He’d saved Louis. That was all that mattered to him right now. 

He sighed as they reached the back door of the inn, and Harry held it open with his foot, helping Louis step inside. They made their way painfully slowly up the steps, only stopping to breathe when they reached the door to Louis’ room. They slipped inside and Louis fell onto his bed, making a noise of protest as his battered body sank into the mattress.

Harry grabbed what supplies he knew Louis had and began patching him up, taking extra care not to hurt him any more than he already was. When he was done, Louis looked content, if not a little worse for wear, but he was smiling as he looked at Harry, and Harry found himself smiling back. 

“Tomorrow, we should go back,” Louis said, and Harry nodded, settling next to Louis on the bed and holding his hand gently. “But this time, we go prepared to stay and prepared to learn. It’s time we figured out what the hell’s going on around here.”

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

They decided that traversing the unknown land was a better option than trying to make their way through the ocean this time around. While the weather was being relatively calm, a rarity in Eroda, the sea seemed to be on a different page. Waves twenty feet high and taller crashed mercilessly into the rocky outcroppings of the island, and Harry was sure that, had they gone the way they’d tried the first time, they would have been swallowed by the ocean. 

As it was, though the land path didn’t have the endless water lapping at their ankles, it was untraversed and rough, and the supplies they were carrying on their backs slowed them down. When the lighthouse finally came into sight, however, they both seemed to have a spurt of energy, and made their way quickly across the grass, which was starting to become matted. Harry wondered vaguely how Deloria made this trip multiple times a week, and yet the grass around the lighthouse was virtually untouched. It was strange, for sure. 

Louis looked up at the lighthouse, and though Harry couldn’t see his face, his body language said it all - he didn’t want to be here. Harry, however, didn’t feel the sense of dread he had the last time he’d been on this very spot. He was, for once, excited, and he pulled open the vine-covered door and stepped back, allowing Louis to go in ahead of him. 

As Louis had suggested, they’d come prepared, and both of them flicked on torches as Harry closed the door tightly behind him. He was sure they were the only people, save Deloria, that would venture this far into the outskirts of the island, but he wanted to be safe rather than sorry. 

Deloria was waiting for them, paint brush in hand as she peered out of a small window that Harry hadn’t noticed before. She looked up as they entered, and smiled, and Harry felt a wonderful sense of relief wash over him - he’d half convinced himself that it had all been some sort of fever dream. 

“I hope this week has treated you both well,” she said, standing up from her stool and covering her painting with a cloth. Louis’ eyes, one still swollen from his fight, darted from the cloth to Deloria, but he said nothing, and Harry settled eagerly on another stool, a piece of paper and a pen held ready. Louis had suggested they take notes, so as to study them when they weren’t here, and apply them to Harry’s research in hopes of finding the connections they’d missed. Harry wholeheartedly agreed - this wasn’t just about him. It was about Louis too, and all the other Peculiars that had come before them. He owed them this much. 

“It has. We’ve both been eager to hear what you have to say,” Harry replied, and Louis nodded, his paper ready as well. Deloria, having deposited her paint brushes into a jug of water to rinse, turned back to them both, a stack of books in her arms. 

“I’ve thought a lot about what we discussed on your last venture here. I’ve pulled some materials that I think will be essential, should you wish to understand the nature of the things happening on Eroda.”

She left the books on the table next to Harry, and Harry took a few, passing another few to Louis so they could examine them together. Harry had spent years of his life scouring Eroda for books on any subject, but it seems that Deloria held most of the books he actually needed during his search. As frustrating as that was, he felt a sense of gratitude to now have them in his grasp. 

“I would like to say, before we start, that there is much I don’t understand myself. I only know what I’ve researched, so I’m sure your findings will be as helpful to me as mine are to you. What should we discuss first?” Deloria asked, brushing her bushy hair out of her face. Harry leaned forward and winced. His ribs had been bothering him since the fight yesterday, but he had been so concerned with Louis that he hadn’t even looked at his own injuries. But now was not the time. 

Louis spoke up then. “I want to understand more about the magic surrounding our minds specifically. The headaches, the snatches of memory, all of it. How does it work?”

Harry lifted his pen, ready to write down each and every word, and Deloria began to speak, her lilting voice filling the candlelit room and echoing up into the tower that was the lighthouse. 

“Again, I only know so much, but as I’ve already mentioned, there is magic at work that dampens any memory of the outside world from someone who enters Eroda from foreign lands. Traders seem to be exempt, but perhaps that’s a loophole in the enchantments. Another story for another day, I suppose.” She cleared her throat and continued. “Both of you are unique cases. Louis, you came here by boat, but I don’t think here was where you meant to arrive. And you have no recollection of anything preceding your arrival?”

Louis shook his head, and Harry put a hand on his shoulder, knowing how touchy of a subject that was for him. 

“That seems to be pretty common with most of the Peculiars we’ve had here over the years. Harry, you’re a bit of a special case, however - as far as I know, you were the first to arrive as a child instead of an adult.

“I had been wondering about that for some time,” Harry said quietly. “It never made sense that I was the only child Peculiar ever to set foot here - everyone else was older.”

“I can only assume that it is because of the magic you possess,” Deloria responded, and though this notion didn’t shock him, Harry still felt like someone was sitting on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He leaned in closer, almost subconsciously, as though Deloria was whispering the secrets of the universe to them. “Most humans learn how to use and control their magic well into adulthood, but you mastered yours early. And so you were brought.”

“I don’t understand - why was he brought here at all? And what about the others? And where were we brought from?” Louis asked, his voice getting increasingly higher with every word he uttered. 

Deloria pressed her lips together. “That is still something of a mystery, though it has something to do with another island.”

Harry couldn’t help it - he let out a small gasp, and Louis’ hand, which had been resting on his knee, tightened slightly. “I … I thought maybe it was just a coincidence, but … there have been a few mentions of a sister island. One that may have been part of Eroda at some point. Do you know anything about it?” He could hear the eagerness in his voice, the longing for confirmation that his research hadn’t been in vain. 

Deloria nodded, seemingly pleased. “I believe that once, Eroda was linked with another island. They shared the magic between them, and when they parted, darkness fell on this island.” She paused, rifling through a few papers that looked like copious notes that Harry might have taken himself, had he had the resources. “It seems as though Eroda is not proud of this history and has removed it from teachings, other than a tale to ward people off from leaving Eroda.”

Harry thought he understood, in a way. If he could forget some parts of his life, he might choose to do it. It would certainly lessen the pain constantly warring inside his own mind.

“But why him? What’s special about his magic?” Louis asked, his questions coming faster and more complex now. It was silent for a moment, and then Deloria raised her head, her dark eyes seeming to bore right through to Harry’s very heart. “I have made it my mission to discover Eroda’s need for Peculiars, and though The Elders have not allowed anyone into their circle for many years, I happen to know the one big secret that they wouldn’t want to get out - Eroda’s magic is dying.”

There was silence as they digested that. Again, Harry didn’t feel any sense of surprise. It was like he had known these things already, but he was now finally confirming every suspicion he’d ever had. 

“In the history that I’ve managed to study, Eroda and this sister island disagreed on how magic should be used. The other island wanted people to be free to study and master their abilities, but The Elders wanted to control it. As a result, the splitting of the two islands caused a shift in the magic, and the sister island, being a place where magic was free to be used, took an abundance with them, one that cannot be depleted, as it resides inside the people. Eroda, on the other hand, keeps their magic tightly sealed, only to be used by The Elders and those they choose to serve them. In this case, Eroda has to replenish their magic, because even though the people here don’t know about it, the island relies on it to function, and to do so, they need to take it from somewhere else, the only other place that has a magic matching theirs.” 

Harry felt ill, and as he looked over at Louis, he could see the same expression of disgust and horror on his face that Harry felt in his chest. 

“They … take magic? From people?” Louis asked slowly, sounding doubtful, as though something like that didn’t seem possible to him. Harry wasn’t so much doubtful as he was horrified, sure that the next words out of Deloria’s mouth would cause him to be sick.

“Oh, yes. The Elders insist upon it. The magic of one human soul from the sister island can last up to a hundred years, depending on how old the person is, and how much magic they have in them.”

Harry swallowed. “So that’s why none of them survived. Their bodies couldn’t handle the depletion of magic, so they …” 

“They all met untimely, gruesome ends, unfortunately,” Deloria said sadly. “It seemed to become something of a tradition of sorts. It’s why Erodians began to call your sort Peculiars.”

“But … hang on. I don’t understand - why doesn’t this sister island just put up wards around them, like Eroda does? If people are continuing to be taken, shouldn’t they put up defences?”

Deloria shook her head sadly. “I’m not sure. I would think that this would be common sense, but it seems that the sister island either does not possess that type of magic, or the Erodians that the Elders send to abduct Peculiars from there have found ways around that magic.”

“So, they’ve been … stealing this magic from me? Without my knowledge? How can I not have known this was happening to me?” Harry felt very short of breath in that moment, trying to comprehend how any of this was even possible. He’d read about magic, sure. He’d fantasised about having it, definitely. But this? 

“As a matter of fact, they haven’t. You’re a mystery to them. Every time they’ve tried to get close to you, you don’t seem to have any magic in you at all. And yet, sitting here before me, I can feel the magic coming off you, almost like rays of sunlight. You too, Louis. You both radiate this energy.”

“But how does any of this help us? We still don’t know where we come from or how we got here, or what happened to our past selves,” Louis said, his voice sounding strained. 

“And that’s where I come in,” Deloria said, her voice triumphant, as though they’d arrived at the answer to a question she’d been waiting for this entire time. “The Elders of Eroda thought they could take people from the sister island, and with the island seeming to do nothing about it, and no one here remembering anything, it would be foolproof, but they have one tiny flaw in their mind erasing magic.” She paused, as though for dramatic affect, and then uttered a single word. “Dreams.”

Harry gasped as his head gave a nasty throb, but in that infinitesimal moment between shock and pain, he heard again the faint sound of laughter, and the warmth of what must have been the sun, many years ago. 

He glanced at Louis, who was rubbing hard at his temples. Deloria, however, was smiling. 

“You remember something, don’t you?”

“Not exactly … it’s like a memory of knowing I had a dream, or many dreams. When I wake, I can’t remember them, but I can feel them, like I’ve been somewhere, experiencing something completely unrelated to my emotions at that moment.” Louis squeezed his eyes shut tight and then opened them wide. Harry was staring at him, his mouth slightly open. Louis had just described, in perfect words, the way Harry felt when he woke up every morning. He had never quite been able to put that feeling into words. 

“Your mind relaxes and wanders when you’re sleeping. You’re able to access parts of your brain that are closed to you when awake, and are blocked by magic. Your dreams are the key to breaking the binding magic on your minds, and possibly taking down this entire operation.”

Again, there was silence. Harry felt dizzy with all of this information. It was a lot to process all at once, but at least, for him, things were finally starting to make some sort of sense. The deaths of the previous Peculiars. His headaches. His body remembering things that his mind couldn’t process. He felt like he was finally waking up, but he wasn’t sure he liked what the world around him was. 

“I can see you trying to remember,” Deloria said to Louis, who was staring so hard at the ground, his face was turning red. Harry wanted to reach for him, but he had moved further away somehow. “In doing so, you’re using the magic your mind can’t remember. But your body does, and it’s an automatic response to an assault on your mind.”

“I’m not sure I feel very magical at the moment,” Louis responded, and Harry found himself laughing. Even Deloria let out a small chuckle, and Louis smiled at the sound of Harry’s laughter. Harry felt his cheeks burning, but he didn’t look away. This small moment of joy amidst heavy realizations was just what he needed. 

“What can we do?” Harry asked finally, bringing them all back to the situation at hand. “I want to understand my past. I want to know the things the magic won’t let me remember. I … I want to be free of this burden.”

Deloria stood once again, moving closer to them both. “I’ve been experimenting with several techniques for years, and I think that lucid dreaming is the answer. If we can somehow trigger your brain to think it’s asleep, you’ll start to dream and you’ll be aware of it. You’ll be able to speak out loud about what you see and experience, and in doing so, you’re essentially speaking your own memory back into existence, and you should be able to retain it.”

Harry’s eyes fell once again to Louis, who looked a bit more nervous than Harry felt. Harry thought he knew why - Louis had experience with nightmares, and recounting them to both Harry and Deloria while facing them in his mind sounded horrible to Harry, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of havoc that must be playing on Louis’ mind. 

“I think … maybe we should save that for another day. It’s a lot to wrap my mind around,” Harry admitted, but he didn’t miss the grateful look Louis shot in his direction. Deloria nodded in understanding, and pointed towards the stack of books she’d handed them, which were now at Harry’s feet. 

“I agree. I think it’s time for a bit more research. Decide if you really want to do this. It is experimental, of course, so it might not work, but I’ll be here.”

Harry stood, nodding and already thinking through everything they’d learned, but Louis stopped him as he made to leave, his focus on Deloria.

“Wait. How do you know all this? And why haven’t you come forward before?”

Harry couldn’t help but feel annoyed on Deloria’s behalf that Louis was voicing these concerns when he thought they’d resolved them, but Deloria didn’t seem to be bothered. 

“I have had to be very careful who I share my wisdom with. The Elders watch us all the time, keeping tabs, making sure no one is breaking the rules. It’s been hard to collect this information, let alone teach it to anyone, and even with everything I’ve learned, it’s not enough. I’m still learning, like you.”

“Are you like us, then? A Peculiar?” Harry asked. Deloria’s features didn’t change, but Harry sensed that she was keeping something from them, even as she responded. 

“Of sorts, I suppose.”

Harry could feel his mouth turning up in a smile, but it slid away as he caught sight of Louis, who was staring at Deloria as though he didn’t believe her. Harry, however, knew that Deloria was taking a great risk in telling them this, in helping them. She was seeking knowledge, just like him. She had no reason to lie, and she had every right to keep her secrets to herself. 

“We will meet again, I am sure,” Harry said in lieu of a goodbye, and Deloria nodded. As they left, Harry thought he heard her whip the cover off the painting she’d been working on earlier. Perhaps she’d been inspired. 

As they made their way back over the rocky terrain, Harry again felt like he was tiring rather quickly. He hadn’t noticed it while they were inside the lighthouse, but now as the tall building faded into the distance, he had the sense that he was becoming weaker with every step he took. He didn’t mention this to Louis, though.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit strange?” Louis said after a while.

“What?” Harry asked, though he thought he knew where this might be going. He had seen the way Louis had been regarding the entire conversation, even if Louis thought he’d been secretive. 

“Well, that she knows so much. How is it that you’ve been researching your entire life and she just happens to have the answers you’ve been searching for?” Louis pressed his lips together, and though Harry had been about to retaliate, he thought better of it. “It just seems like eerily perfect timing.”

“After the life I’ve had, a little perfect timing is what I deserve,” Harry said, his voice darkening in spite of himself. He felt Louis’ hand slip into his, and though he was frustrated that Louis still didn’t trust Deloria, he needed that closeness, to remind him that he was no longer alone in this. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

_ Harry was colder than he’d ever been in his life. The sun had disappeared long ago, longer than he could remember, and all he wanted right now was to feel that warmth on his skin. Oh, and to escape from this ship.  _

_ He couldn’t be sure how long he’d been on it, but it felt like days, maybe even weeks. It was almost like time worked differently here than it did at home.  _

_ At the mere thought of home, Harry’s heart ached, and he struggled once again against the thick ropes that were binding his wrists behind his back. Sea spray hit his face every few moments as the ship crested the rough waves. It made Harry’s stomach roll - he wished he could lay down, but his body was bound to the mast like some petty criminal. Then again, he was a hostage.  _

_ He could still hear his best friend’s voice screaming his name as he was dragged across the beach and thrown over the side of the ship. Harry had barely been able to get one last look at his best friend before the ship had set sail, leaving his whole life and his island behind.  _

_ “Oi, stop squirming, Pec,” yelled one of the crew members, the only woman on board. She fit in almost seamlessly, with her sea-worn clothing and the wide-brimmed hat that shielded her face. Harry wrinkled his nose. He didn’t know that word, but the way she said it made it sound almost threatening.  _

_ “What did you call me?” _

_ “Pec - as in Peculiar. You’ll learn what that means soon enough. We’re almost in Eroda’s waters.” She turned back to her fellow crew members, her hair tied back in a tight bun at the base of her neck, which was now all Harry could see. _

_ The sick feeling came back to Harry, almost forcing whatever was left in his stomach up through his throat. He’d been afraid of this.  _

_ There were stories, as most places had, about the dangers of the sister island, Eroda. They forced their citizens into unknowing servitude, only allowing them to go about their daily business. They had no magic, or at least, that was what the legends said. Their magic was dying. They needed someone to give some of theirs to them, and there was only one place that had the magic they needed. _

_ Harry had never thought he’d be taken - they only took adults, or they had done in the past. No matter what wards they put up or how many spies they sent into the surrounding waters, the Erodians always managed to best them at every turn. There was a memorial to those taken in the center of their town. His name would be up there now, Harry thought bitterly, but almost at once, he forced those thoughts away. He didn’t care what magic Eroda had surrounding it. He would never forget his home. He would never forget his family or his life or how the sun felt on his face. He would never forget.  _

_ The crew began scrambling as they crested the largest wave yet, and as they came down from it, a blinding pain shot through Harry’s head. He cried out, struggling to make it go away, but it kept growing, forcing his eyes closed with the pain of it, until everything whited out in a wave of nothingness. _

“Harry … Harry …”

Someone was shaking him, calling his name. The voice sounded familiar, but Harry could still feel the pain in his head. It wouldn’t stop. It would never ever stop.

“Harry, please. Wake up, love,” the voice said again, pleading with him. 

Harry sat bolt upright, his chest heaving and cold sweat covering his body. His head was pounding, as if the demons he’d kept pushed down for years were banging on the inside, begging to be let out.

He sucked in a breath, trying to come back to himself, but he was being crushed by everything around him. The room felt small, too small, and It was then that he noticed noises - stifled sobs, choked off by lack of air. They were coming from him. He could feel the tears on his face mixing with sweat. 

“Shhh, H, I’m right here.”

It was that voice … Harry was sure he’d heard that voice before, moments ago, screaming his name, but maybe it had just been this - his Louis, his boyfriend, for that was what they were now, no denying it, trying to wake him from the never-ending nightmares. 

Harry finally managed to make eye contact with Louis, and even through the darkness of the room, his eyes were bright as gemstones, centering him, bringing him back to this reality. He gulped in a few more breaths, letting Louis talk him down. Even when he could breathe normally again, his hands were still shaking. He felt ill, like his body was shutting down. He just wanted to sleep, but even the moments when he was supposed to have rest from the eternal torment of his mind had been taken over. 

“L-Louis … I’m …” Harry felt a wave of sickness, but he clamped a hand to his mouth, choking on the bile that rose to his throat. 

Louis shook his head, pulling Harry close to him. “You don’t have to explain. It’s alright.”

“Hurts …” Harry mumbled, but he wasn’t sure which hurt he was referring to - his head, obviously, but his body felt battered, and his heart, well, that was another matter entirely. He had this feeling like he’d lost someone special, someone that had made his life a living dream, and now they were gone, forever. But his mind couldn’t remember a single moment of that dream. He rubbed absently at his wrist, listening to Louis’ heartbeat as he pressed himself closer to him. 

“You’re alright now, yeah?” Louis whispered softly, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair, and Harry’s tired eyes slipped closed for a moment. 

“What’s happening to me?” Harry asked, his voice cracking, and he thought Louis might have sniffed away a tear or two before answering. 

“I think it’s Deloria,” he said, but he didn’t sound accusatory as he usually did. He sounded curious. “Something’s changed since we met her … since she told us what’s been going on. I keep getting these feelings, like I’ve lived some other life, and I just … I think that knowledge alone is starting to wear away at this magic stuff.”

Harry just nodded, but at the mention of Deloria’s name, he felt this strange sensation, like he had been with her mere moments ago. But that was impossible. He listened as Louis wondered aloud. “I think we’ll have to go and see her again. She can meet us somewhere, and we can try whatever she had in mind.” Harry looked up at Louis, who was giving him a wry smile. “I’m tired of forgetting.”

“Yeah … me too.”

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

To their great surprise, they hadn’t had to go searching for Deloria at all - she had come to them, in her own way. 

A few mornings after Harry’s nightmare, he’d woken from an uneasy sleep to find a slip of paper shoved under his door with familiar handwriting on it. He’d hurried across the hall to Louis’ room and discovered that he’d received the same summons. 

As they readied themselves to go, Harry eyed his helmet. He was feeling a bit set back after the other night. He still felt sick, his body aching even when he did nothing to provoke it, and he was sure he didn’t look much better than he felt. He didn’t want to subject other people to that. He picked it up, staring at himself in the cracked, grimy windows of glass. Holding it felt wrong, like he was reverting back to someone else, someone he didn’t much like, but leaving without it felt even more wrong. 

Louis’ hand rested on his wrist, and Harry looked up at him, wishing Louis could tell him what to do. 

“If you need it, take it. You don’t have to be brave all the time, you know.”

Harry felt tears prick in his eyes, and he pulled Louis in for a quick kiss, feeling Louis sag slightly against him as their tongues brushed lightly. 

“More of  _ that _ when we get back, please,” Louis said quickly under his breath as they walked out into the hallway. Harry let out a small chuckle, resting the helmet over his head and onto his shoulders. 

They made their way through the streets, and though many of the usual tormentors were out and about, no one said a word to them. Harry almost preferred being downright ignored - it meant he didn’t have to pretend not to be hurt by their words. Not that they could see his face at this moment anyway, but he always felt like they could tell. 

The place Deloria had mentioned to them was one Harry didn’t know all that well, but he had been there once when he was a child. The orphanage had taken them on a few day trips before he’d been kicked out, and this was one of them. According to what Harry could remember, it was the epicenter of the island. This of course meant - though Harry hadn’t known at the time - that it must be where Eroda’s magic came from, or had come from at one time. It made perfect sense that Deloria wanted to jog their memories here. Whatever magic Eroda had left would aid them, hopefully. 

Louis had been quiet on their walk, but when Harry squeezed his hand, Louis had a smile on his face as he continued to walk by his side. Harry almost wanted to ask if Louis really wanted to do this because, despite his complete trust in Deloria and his desperation for knowledge, he didn’t want to push Louis. But he hadn’t asked, and Louis seemed more excited to see her than usual, so Harry took that as a good sign. 

When they reached the place, Harry reached out gently at what looked like solid rock covered in willowy tree branches. Deloria’s note had instructed him to do this, and just as it had said, the branches parted easily, leading them through an archway made of stone and directly into the heart of the hills. 

Harry heard Louis’ breath catch as they walked out from the shadows and into a small glade. It glowed with an otherworldly light, despite the lack of sun, and there was the soft sound of running water - a saltwater spring.

The moment their shoes touched the grass, which was short and springy here, Harry felt the same rush of energy he’d felt on top of the hills the other day when his jar had broken. Maybe by hitting the rock, the jar had triggered the magic laying beneath. Either way, he couldn’t get enough of the feeling. It was like finding something that you hadn’t known you were missing - the rush of pure happiness almost made him dizzy. 

Louis leaned in, pressing a kiss to Harry’s shoulder - a strange gesture that nevertheless made him blush furiously under his helmet. “I’m glad we’re here, H. We can finally figure this out. This is just another step to get us out of here.”

“Well, I’m not sure I can work that much magic, but we’ll see what we can make happen,” said Deloria’s voice, and they both looked up to see her sitting on a small rock next to the spring, her hair natural and curly and framing her face perfectly. Harry wasn’t sure if it was the magic affecting his sight, but she seemed more radiant than usual, like some sort of mystical fairy godmother. It was odd, but comforting. 

Louis laughed good-heartedly and moved forward. Harry followed, not really ready to let go of Louis’ hand. He still felt a bit off from his nightmare, and the thought of being forced into dreams was tearing him up inside, but he knew it would help, and he wanted it, whatever it cost him. 

“As you can see, no one will be bothering us while we work, so I’m hoping that makes you a bit less wary.”

Harry’s eyes met Louis’ and Louis looked determined and calm, which eased Harry’s mind only slightly. 

“I’ll go first, I suppose. I doubt you’d put us out at the same time, right?” Louis asked, and Deloria stood, moving so that Louis could lay down on the rock she had vacated. It was flat now that Harry looked at it, almost like a bed made of stone. It made Harry think of the stories he’d been told in the orphanage, though the title of that particular one was escaping him at this moment. 

“The act of lucid dreaming is actually a mixture of hypnotism and the dreaming itself. One can sometimes find triggers in their dreams that alert them to the fact that they are indeed dreams, and they can navigate through them of their own free will instead of allowing the mind to take them in any one direction. That’s what we’re going to attempt today.” She reached into the folds of her coat and pulled out two small vials. “I’ve concocted a very light sedative that will put you in the space between reality and dreams. There, we should be able to access the part of your brain that remembers your past and navigate through it.”

“Sounds harmless enough,” Louis responded, but there was a slight wobble to his words that had Harry thinking that he wasn’t totally on board with it. He also had nightmares, bad ones, and this couldn’t have been easy for him to go into blindly. But Louis seemed to be taking it in his stride anyway, laying himself back on the stone surface and wiggling around slightly to get comfortable. Harry took this moment to remove his helmet, as Deloria was someone he trusted, and he sat down next to Louis, the grass feeling cool under his bare legs. It wasn’t often that he went out in anything other than his long coat and trousers, but Louis had found this old shirt and shorts combo covered in zig zag stripes of all colors, and thought it might cheer him up and a little and alleviate some of his anxieties. It had, but mostly because it had been Louis that picked it out.

Deloria took in a deep breath and then handed one vial to Louis, who only hesitated momentarily before swallowing it down. Harry could see the moment Louis started to feel it, because his whole body seemed to sag in on itself and his eyes drooped dramatically.

“Remember, Louis, listen to the sound of my voice, and respond with whatever you see,” Deloria warned him, and before Harry could even say a word of good luck, Louis’ eyes had slipped closed, and he’d fallen very still. Harry reached for Louis’ hand, but Deloria shook her head. “We can’t disturb him now.”

Harry drew back obediently, waiting, as Deloria let the natural sounds of the glade create a tranquil atmosphere. And then she spoke in a soft, lilting voice. 

“Louis, can you hear me?”

It was a moment before Louis’ response came, quiet but sure. “Yes.”

“Can you tell me where you are?”

Louis’ brow wrinkled, almost as if he were squinting at his surroundings. “I think I’m on a boat. Yes, a ship. I can … I can see myself. I’m standing at the helm, and everyone’s looking at me. There’s a storm coming, I can taste it on the air.” Louis paused. “I think I’m the captain.”

Harry didn’t know what to make of that and, apparently, neither did Deloria, because she kept her questions coming. 

“Is anyone speaking?”

“Yes. A man to my right. He’s tall.”

“Alright, good. What are they saying, can you hear?”

Louis shook his head. “Too loud. The water is so loud.”

“Concentrate, Louis. Move closer. What is he saying?”

Harry wondered if it was a bit harsh of Deloria to demand this of Louis, but Louis was answering, and he snapped back to attention. Louis’ legs twitched, as though he were actually moving closer to the person. 

“He says that we’re getting close to Eroda. Our shield should hold long enough for me to … but it’s too loud.” Louis’ breaths were coming a bit faster now, but he kept going, his face screwing up in concentration. “I feel … nervous. Terrified. Exhausted. But … how?

“You’re feeling what you were feeling at the time this memory was made. It’s natural. Keep going.”

“We’re looking for someone. It’s been a long time. Everyone looks tired.”

“We’re getting closer. Keep digging,” Deloria encouraged, an edge to her voice now. “What shield?”

“The shield from home. We warded ourselves so we wouldn’t forget. But the storm - and he says it’s an even numbered day, so we have to wait. I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do, Louis. You understand everything. You were there.”

Louis whimpered now, and Harry sat firmly on his hands, determined not to break Louis out of this. He didn’t want to interfere, and every part of him was tingling, as though Louis was close to revealing something that could change everything. 

“I … I was there. I lead them to … their deaths … all of them, gone. Me, all alone, drifting. The ship is gone. I can feel it … the desire for death, but also a drive. But I have to … have to save him … I came all this way …” Louis gasped, and he sat bolt upright, sweat breaking out along his brow, his eyes wide open. The hypnosis was broken. 

Harry waited with bated breath as Louis sucked air into his lungs, breathing deeply.

“What do you remember?” Deloria asked, and Louis turned to look at her, his eyes wide. 

“I … I was on a boat. I was trying to rescue someone, and we were close. But the storm … I was the only one left.” Louis sighed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “I could feel everything, but I was just … watching.” He turned to Harry. “I’m not sure if that helps us, love.”

Harry finally reached for Louis, feeling like, for once, he was able to help him. “It’s a start. Now we know why you washed up on our shores. You were out there, looking for someone. It … it sounds like you loved them a lot.” Harry tried not to feel too sad that no one had ever looked for him the way Louis had looked for this man. “You did amazingly. I’m proud of you.”

Louis was blushing now, a few tears lingering in his eyes. “Thanks, H.” He leaned in for a kiss, and Harry reciprocated happily, but with a nagging bit of doubt in the back of his mind that, if and when they regained their memories, Louis might leave him behind. But he couldn’t think like that. It was all about here and now, in this moment. And now - it was his turn. 

Louis stood, only slightly unsteady on his feet from the discomfort of the rock, and Harry took his place. He felt vaguely sick, but Louis had his hand on his waist, and he focused on that, letting the way that made him feel fill him up, pushing away any negative thoughts. He was ready for this. He deserved to know some part of his past. 

“Alright, Harry. We will go through the same process with you. It seems that Louis has retained at least part of his memories, which looks good for you.” She handed him the second vial, already uncorked. “Just listen to my voice. Here we go.”

Harry swallowed, meeting Louis’ eyes once before drinking the vial. Immediately, he felt himself become drowsy, but in a much more pleasant way than he was used to. It felt like he was floating on some sort of cloud, and the last thing he saw before slipping completely under were Louis’ anxious blue eyes. And then things were murky, almost like mud, until shapes began to solidify before him. He was on a beach, and the sun was beating down on him. Looking around, he spotted what must have been him. He was several years younger, maybe 12 or 13, and his skin was tanned a golden brown. Harry had always wondered what it would be like to live somewhere with sunshine.

“Harry, can you hear me?”

The voice came from nowhere, floating above him like an invisible bird, and he instinctively looked around, even though he knew who it was.

“Yes, I can,” he answered, feeling some of the tension he’d been holding dissipate. How could anyone be anxious surrounded by beautiful blue water and a sunny, cloudless sky? It was heaven. 

“Tell me what you see.”

Harry looked around, following his younger self as he walked forward onto the beach inch by inch. “There’s no one here, but …” he listened closely, a sound catching his attention. “I hear yelling. Angry yelling.”

Harry heard the soft sound of footsteps behind him and turned to see a young boy about his age running towards the younger him, looking terrified. There was something about him that was awfully familiar, but Harry didn’t have time to ponder it, because the boy had reached him. Fear filled him, unlike anything he’d ever experienced, but he stood his ground, waiting to see what happened next.

“Harry, you have to run. They’re here for you! I’ll distract them and you get out of here!” the boy whispered harshly, and younger Harry nodded, seeming to understand. He took off across the sand, sticking close to the underbrush furthest away from the water. Harry followed, feeling the panic rising in his chest. 

“What else?” Deloria’s voice said, almost right in his ear, and Harry panted, trying to catch his breath as he chased himself. 

“A boy just told me to run. I’m running away … I’m being chased.” Harry knew that now, for he could hear triumphant voices and the sounds of footsteps behind him, closing in. Younger Harry put on a terrific burst of speed, but it wasn’t enough. Harry skidded to a halt as he watched something rope-like catch his ankle, and he hit the sand with a thud. Harry felt his own head give a throb.

There were voices, lots of them, and men came from nowhere, surrounding his younger self. They looked triumphant, all yelling at once, but there was only one phrase that came clear to him. “We’ve got the boy. Ready the ships - we set sail for Eroda immediately.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he was relaying this information to Deloria and Louis, because he was struggling too hard with the mix of feelings that were filling him. The hands looked rough and strong, like someone who spent their days on docks, pulling in fish. Harry could feel the bruises they were leaving on him. His younger self was screaming, pleading, and his own heart was beating so fast, it might burst from his chest at any moment. 

“Harry! HARRY!” He heard a voice and looked up, seeing the boy from earlier running after the men as they carried younger Harry away. “NO!”

Harry tried to call out to him, he really did, but his voice was constricted with terror, and he could feel tears on his cheeks as he watched himself squirm and struggle, trying to break free. 

The men dragged him up a plank, the raw wood slicing into his skin and leaving splinters. His breaths were coming in short pants now, and he was struggling to remember that he wasn’t actually here, that this was only a memory. He wasn’t experiencing it, and yet he was. He could feel everything. He wasn’t sure if that knowledge made it worse or better.

He found himself on his knees in the sand, watching helplessly as he was dragged over the side of the ship. He watched himself look up one last time, his head now spinning and his eyes blurry, and saw the boy standing on the beach, his face streaked with dirt and tears. 

“I’ll find you. I swear I will! I’ll NEVER STOP LOOKING!” The boy screamed the words, and Harry believed them in his heart. His best friend, the person he thought he might love forever, would find him one day. That was what he held onto as terror overtook him, and his vision fell dark. 

Harry wondered if this is what Louis had experienced before he’d woken fully, but he doubted it. Louis had come out mid-dream, and as the darkness pressed in on him from all sides, he began to feel caged in. He had never much liked the dark, but this kind of darkness felt like it was compressing him. It made it hard to breathe. He struggled to take in a breath, then another, and his heart was starting to beat faster. He didn’t like this. He wanted out. He could still hear the screams of the boy on the beach, shouting his name, calling for him. 

“Harry … Harry, please … listen to my voice … come back to me. Deloria, help me! He can’t breathe!”

Harry had to concur with the boy - he really couldn’t breathe. There was a weight on his chest, much heavier than it had been recently, pressing down, down, down … his head was throbbing with lack of air and his body felt numb, but he wanted to follow that voice. He had to know who it was. 

Brightness blinded him as his eyes finally opened, and he could feel grass beneath him - he was sure he’d been on stone before, but he was too busy attempting to breathe to focus on this change. 

“Oh, god, Harry … love, I need you to look at me …” 

There was that voice again, and Harry managed to turn his head, looking into a pair of familiar blue eyes … Louis. His Louis. 

“I c-c-” Harry tried to speak, but no words came out. He felt a wave of nausea overtake him and he turned away, vomiting all over the grass. It didn’t make things any better - the smell made him panic more, and his hands flew to his chest, clawing at his clothes, trying anything to open his lungs so he could  _ breathe _ . 

“Harry … I’m here, it’s me. It’s Louis. You’re here with me. Can you hear me?” Louis asked, his arms going around Harry. He wanted to protest, but he found himself too weak to do so. He shuddered; every demon and dark thought that he’d ever had was crushing him completely, raining down on him like acid, burning him whenever he allowed his mind to wander. 

“What the hell did you do to him?” Louis yelled, and Harry winced at the loudness of his voice. The anger in it was apparent. 

“I did exactly what I did to you. He just had an adverse reaction,” said Deloria, her voice full of a concern that Harry thought sounded ingenuine. 

“An adverse … he can’t even move, Deloria! You fucking terrified him to death. H, you’re alright, just breathe with me. You’re safe.” Louis was talking to him now, all traces of anger gone, and Harry buried his face into Louis’ chest, needing him, craving that comfort, desperate for something to ground him when he felt like he was in free-fall. 

“Lou …” He croaked finally, his breathing evening out enough that he could make out that one syllable, and Louis kissed his forehead, whispering thanks to a god Harry didn’t know. 

“C’mon, let’s get you home. Away from here.”

There was a bite in Louis’ voice, an all too familiar one, but right now, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just wanted to be away from here. He wanted to be …

“Home is so far away, Lou. I was … was t-taken,” Harry shivered again, suddenly freezing. Louis stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around Harry’s arms, but it did nothing to melt the feeling of ice now creeping across Harry’s body, wrapping him in the numbness that hadn’t found him since Louis’ arrival. 

“I know. I’ve got you.”

Harry didn’t remember much of the journey. He was vaguely aware of Louis placing his helmet over his head, which probably saved him from several nasty head injuries as they made their way back across Eroda. It was patchy - Harry remembered leaving the glade, but not getting into town, and then he saw the citizens of Eroda staring at him, but this time, the stares were ones of pure curiosity instead of hostility. And then they were in Harry’s room, and Harry could feel soft bed covers beneath him, his quilt feeling surprisingly warm against his exposed skin. 

“I can’t believe she would … god, I should have known we couldn’t trust her. You were screaming, terrified, and she just egged you on, fishing for information …”

Harry just shook his head, moaning as his stomach turned again, his head feeling ten times bigger than it usually did. 

“She didn’t … mean it …” he said slowly, the words not coming to him. He felt worn out, completely and utterly drained, and hot but cold at the same time. 

“Of course she meant it! She could have pulled you out at any time and decided to wait until you were nearly suffocating from lack of air before even trying!” Louis’ anger made Harry feel worse, but trying to tell him that was something else. 

He felt warm liquid touch his lips and he tilted his head up, sipping at the tea Louis had somehow made for him in those few minutes. Or had it been an hour? He couldn’t tell. There was just one thought in his mind now, repeating over and over again, and he found himself voicing it, unable to keep it to himself. 

“I want to die. Let me die, Louis, please. Make the pain stop.”

Louis’ face was above his then, concern etched in the smile lines by his eyes and his mouth turned down in a sad frown. 

“I’ll make you feel better, H. You just stay with me, yeah? I need you to stay with me. I … I need you.” Harry watched his throat bob, almost missing the next few words. “I love you.”

Something warm penetrated the darkness in Harry, almost like a small flame, but before he could grasp it, hold onto it, keep it alive, his eyes slid closed, and he let himself fall into the darkness, grateful for it for once. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

  
  


Harry went between nightmares and terrible waking headaches for a length of time he couldn’t determine. All he knew was that Louis was there every time he opened his eyes, and when he closed them again, all he could hear was that voice, calling his name, promising to find him. There was a connection there, he knew it. He could feel himself getting closer to the truth with every moment, but he was in too much pain to use any energy thinking further into it. 

When he finally awoke to no pain, it must have been night, and he could hear the pitter patter of rain on the roof. Next to him, Louis dozed at an uncomfortable angle, a bottle of water dangling precariously in his hand. He must have gone out for food and drink, but Harry couldn’t imagine him leaving. Maybe Peter had come back. He wasn’t sure. Thinking made his head throb and his stomach turn. 

He almost didn’t want to wake Louis - he was sure Louis had been up all kinds of hours taking care of him. The shame and humiliation hit him then, all at once, and he cringed away from Louis, feeling disgusting. He had finally reached a place where he didn’t mind being open with Louis and this had just taken all that progress away. He felt dirty and useless. He felt like he had no purpose. He felt exactly how he’d felt for years, with the only change being Louis’ steady presence next to him. But was that enough?

It had to be. Even with those dark thoughts creeping up on him, he still felt that light in him that was Louis. He remembered the last words Louis had truly spoken to him -  _ I love you _ . And Harry knew he felt the same way. He had for a long time, since that first moment in the hills, really. Louis made him feel like a real person again instead of the shadow he had become accustomed to being. No matter what his mind threw at him, no matter what he remembered from his past, that wasn’t going to change. 

But what if it changed for Louis? What if Louis’ past was all about going after his one true love, and it wasn’t Harry? Harry felt tears welling in his eyes and he sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of his bed, breathing between his knees. He knew Louis was a light sleeper - he didn’t want to wake him up with his sobs. 

He tried to keep his movements minimal, but his whole body shook with the emotional pain he was finally allowing himself to feel. Everything that had ever happened to him, before and after Louis, was now raging inside him in one massive ball of emotions. 

It had all stemmed from that research. All the work he’d done over the years to discover Eroda’s secrets. It had ruined his life. It had forced him to rely on something that wasn’t solid or constant, and he had let it determine his worth. 

Harry stood, making his way to his wall. The wallpaper had remained peeled back since he’d told Louis the truth about his work, and it was all right there. All of his notes and the pictures and the stacks of books he and Louis had taken from Deloria. All of Louis’ carefully written additions and ideas, pinned perfectly. He hated the sight of it. 

He didn’t realize what he was doing until he was already doing it. Tacks hit the floor with the lightest of sounds. Paper tore and swirled around him in a tornado of things he wished he’d never discovered. It would have been easier if he’d just lived his life as an outcast. It would have been easier if he’d just had the guts to go through with his plans. It would have been easier if he’d just been born here, not a Peculiar, but an Erodian. Surely, living in unknowing servitude to the Elders was better than the life he had led. He despised himself, and rightly so, because in trying to save himself, he’d destroyed himself instead. 

He felt hands on his arms, pulling him back, trying to protect him. He wanted to shake them off, but the touch was gentle, one he recognized, and instead of flying into a frenzy, like part of his mind wanted him to, all the fight seemed to leave him. His body, which had been running on pure adrenaline, gave up, and he collapsed back into Louis’ arms, the tears coming faster now as he choked on his own sobs. 

“Harry …” Louis whispered, pulling Harry into his lap and holding him there like a child. It seemed appropriate - Harry felt about as smart as a child right now. 

“It was all a waste, Lou. Every moment of my life has been a waste. I’m nothing.”

He could feel Louis’ body tense up at his words, and he had the urge to turn to Louis, admit that he didn’t mean any of it and that Louis made it all better, but that wasn’t true. He couldn’t lie to Louis, but he hated hurting him in this way. 

“You’re not nothing. You’re Harry. You’re smart and determined and without you, I wouldn’t be alive right now. You saved me.  _ You _ saved  _ me _ .”

Harry found that he couldn’t keep his eyes away any longer, and he turned, looking to Louis. His Louis, who was perpetually upbeat, who always had the right words. And right now, even though Harry’s mind was telling him that Louis was lying, he had never seen Louis look more serious. 

“No Erodian would have dared touch me. They would have gladly let me die without giving me a second thought. But you didn’t care who or what I was. It didn’t matter if I was Erodian or Peculiar. You saw someone in danger and you came to help. I … I couldn’t be more grateful to you.”

Harry couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw tears on Louis’ cheeks. He reached up and brushed them away, and Louis smiled. 

“I’m not worth your gratitude, Lou. I’m just a Peculiar.”

“If being Peculiar makes you the person you are, then I don’t want you to be anything else.”

Harry felt another sob working its way up his throat, and he leaned up, kissing Louis hard and fast. “I love you.”

Louis looked shocked, but Harry had been waiting to say it back. He’d held it in for so long that it just kind of slipped out, but he felt some of the weight that had been pressing down on him lift. Louis’ smile returned, radiant as ever. 

“I love you too, Harry. Just as you are. Don’t ever think you’d be worth more as someone else. I don’t want someone else. I only want you.”

Harry found himself reaching for Louis’ face, cradling it in his hands. He couldn’t believe that he was this lucky. Even through his doubts and pain, he had found Louis. Nothing would change what they had in this moment. 

When their lips met, Harry could feel his anger and pain and frustration slowly ebbing away, but it was different this time. It wasn’t him pushing it back down. It was Louis, healing him, somehow helping him bear his burden. 

“C’mon, H. Back to bed with you,” Louis mumbled against his lips, and Harry nodded, both of them rising and falling back into Harry’s bed, finding each other again. 

They kissed softly for a while, Harry just desperate for some kind of comfort, and Louis eager to provide. That warm spark that Harry remembered feeling amongst all the darkness was growing brighter and stronger with every moment they spent like this, just being, not giving a thought to the turmoil that awaited them outside their momentary bubble. 

“Love you,” Harry mumbled, needing to say it again. 

“Love you,” Louis replied, and Harry felt him smile into their kiss. If everything came back to him tomorrow, and he and Louis parted ways, he was glad they at least had this. One last night. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

When they received their next summons from Deloria - she had given them a few days warning this time - Louis had paced back and forth in Harry’s room for ages, so long that Harry worried he would wear a path into the old wood.    
  


“I just … after what she did, she really thinks we would want to go back?” he mumbled, more to himself than to Harry, but Harry just sat and listened, too consumed in his own confusion with Deloria to have anything for or against her. 

On one hand, he had been able to retain a memory for the first time since coming to Eroda, and although it was a painful one that he continued to relive like some childhood nightmare, it was something to hold onto, something from his past that he now had in his possession. On the other hand, however, he’d had the worst breakdown of his life and he was still spiralling from it, still just on the brink of falling back into that darkness and despair that had surrounded him for most of his time on Eroda. In short, his confusion was valid - he wanted to know more about his past, but part of him wondered if the torture of lucid dreaming was even worth it. 

Louis, on the other hand, had a clear opinion, and Harry wouldn’t have known how to talk him out of it even if he’d wanted to. 

“Harry, I just don’t know if I can justify the necessity of it - she hurt you. I don’t want her to … I don’t want to see you like that again. I thought I was losing you.” Louis looked over at Harry, worry etched across his face, and all Harry could do was shake his head, hoping that the right answer would just appear and he would know what to do. 

“What are you thinking, H?” Louis asked then, coming over to sit down next to Harry on the bed, trying not to disturb the piles of papers. He and Louis had woken the next morning and cleaned up their research. Harry had been stupid to think attempting to destroy it would make him feel better. But it did cause him slightly less stress to not stare at it for hours, wondering where he could have gone wrong or done more. 

Harry hesitated, trying to find the right words before answering. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m … terrified. But I need to understand my past. I need to know who I am … does that make sense?”

Louis nodded, and Harry sighed with relief. “No, I completely understand. I want answers too. But I’m not sure I’m desperate enough for them that I’d risk either of our sanities to get them.”

Harry stood up then and moved swiftly towards Louis, pressing their lips together then, needing a moment where they weren’t caught up with magic and memories - he just wanted a minute alone to be with Louis, in every way. 

Louis’ lips parted almost instantly, and Harry licked into his mouth, pulling a groan from him. He wasn’t sure where his sudden spurt of confidence was coming from, but he could feel it in every inch of his body, and he pulled Louis to him, their chests nearly touching as their kisses became deeper and more frantic. 

“Harry … fuck, you’re so …” Louis gasped as their lips finally parted, and Harry, still high on his adrenaline, walked Louis backwards to his bed, both men falling onto it as their kisses became deeper still. 

Harry couldn’t have been sure how long they laid there, their kisses going from frantic and desperate to soft and slow. Louis had attached himself to Harry’s neck moments ago, leaving quite an impressive mark, if the slight throbbing there was any indication. 

Everything about being with Louis like this felt right, like they’d been doing this their entire lives. Harry didn’t understand it, but he didn’t care to. For once, he was living in the moment, enjoying what he had now instead of worrying about what he might not have in the future. 

The noises Louis made made Harry feel things in places he didn’t know he could feel anything, and it only made him want to hold Louis like this and never let him go. 

“I have never loved like this,” Harry admitted, and Louis’ cheeks flamed red. 

“I love you. So much,” Louis replied, causing Harry to lean in for one more lingering kiss. 

That kiss turned into another five minutes or so, but then, as though he couldn’t help himself, Harry pulled away, a question sitting on the tip of his tongue - it had been burning in his mind since their last meeting with Deloria. 

“Lou, what did you see? In your dream?”

“Didn’t I tell you, when we were there?”

“Yeah, but … I wanted to hear it again. More detail. There’s just something … strange about it,” Harry said slowly, and Louis nodded in understanding. 

“I’m surprised how much of it I remember, honestly. It’s strange to remember one moment and not understand the context.” Louis took a deep breath, and it suddenly occurred to Harry that Louis might not be comfortable talking about it. It had been traumatic, one of Louis’ darkest moments, and Harry found himself feeling ashamed for having asked. Louis caught his duck of the head, though, because he reached out, putting his hand on Harry’s leg. “Hey, no, none of that. I don’t mind talking about it. It actually helps me deal with it.”

Harry looked back up quickly, giving Louis the smallest of smiles, and waited. 

“Well, when I first entered the dream, it was dark, but I could feel the cold pressing in on me from all sides. It’s like that cold that chills you to the bone and leaves you shivering even when you’ve gotten warm. I’m not even sure how I know what that feels like, but I do.” Louis paused, seeming to think back. “The ship kind of just materialized, and there I was, surrounded by a crew, and they were all looking at me, like they expected me to know what to do. Like they trusted me. That’s what made me think maybe I was the captain. And then the man next to me was talking, saying that we’d made it to the edge of Eroda’s territory, and somehow, we knew what that meant. It had something to do with magic. We had warded ourselves, because the mission was supposed to be quick. Pull in, rescue someone, and get out. I felt like I’d been out on the water for a long time - like I’d been looking for this person my entire life.”

Louis paused again, and something started to formulate in Harry’s mind - a connection, so vague, he might have missed it if not for that last sentence. He kept it to himself, though, waiting. 

“It makes sense now, because I know that entering Eroda on an even day is forbidden. So we would have had to wait it out, but the storm came in, and …” Louis shuddered. “I don’t remember a lot of that, but when the dream came back into focus, it was just me. No ship, no people. Just me on a hunk of wood, and the only thing I could think of was that he … whoever I was looking for, would be lost forever, because Eroda would take away every memory I had of him.”

Harry tried not to cry when he saw the tears lingering on Louis’ high cheekbones. His heart ached for Louis - to lose everything right on the cusp of finding his person, it couldn’t have been easy. 

“But then you saved me, and I feel like that was meant to happen, somehow,” Louis said, smiling as he wiped away the tears. “It felt right.”

Harry smiled back, but his mind was racing now, things coming together faster than he could have ever imagined. He found himself stumbling over the words, and he had to slow down before trying to explain what he was thinking. 

“Lou, I know it’s not possible, but … in my dream, I was on a beach. Not here, not on Eroda. Somewhere else, where the sun shines and the sand is fine and soft. And the waters are blue.” He felt warm just remembering that moment of pure ecstasy. “And there was this boy. He was … beautiful, in a way that I can’t describe. He told me to run, and I did, but I was caught. They dragged me away, onto a ship, and he came after me. He told me he would find me. He said he’d never stop looking.” He took a deep breath, prepared to sound utterly insane. “When you spoke to me on that beach, I felt something that I didn’t understand. It was an instant pull to you, even though we’d never met before. I needed to be near you. I needed to know you. I felt comfortable with you like I had never felt with anyone here. What if we’re describing the same timeline but years apart? What if the boy on the beach … what if it was you?”

Louis’ eyes grew wide, his brain seeming to speed up as Harry rushed his last words. “And what if the person you were looking for was me? It’s not … I mean, I could be completely off the mark, but … as far as I know, I’m the only person that’s been brought to this island from the outside in many years. No one comes here. And you said you felt like you’d been searching forever … the boy in my dream promised he wouldn’t stop until he found me.”

“Harry … that’s …” Louis stood up, resuming his pacing, but this time, his eyes were wide, possibilities dawning on him with every turn he made. “That could be true. It would explain a lot … why we have this weird connection and comfort with each other. Why we get along so well. Why we have these …” He reached under the collar of his shirt, pulling out his ring. Harry held up his own hand, his ring glinting dully. Louis came closer to him, holding up his against Harry’s palm. They were almost identical - same design, different metal.

Harry was in shock. Out of all the things that could have led to this moment of realization, the rings had been the last thing on his mind, and yet, they were the most obvious. How coincidental it was for himself and Louis to have the same ring and yet not know that their paths were completely intertwined into one?

Harry opened his mouth, prepared to say the words that he and Louis were both thinking, when a blinding pain shot through his head. It was so bad that he actually grabbed the sides of his head, digging his nails into his scalp as though causing alternate pain would take away the original. Louis wasn’t in much of a better state. He had sunk to his knees, his face screwed up in obvious agony. 

“Deloria … she said the headaches were us trying to remember …” Louis said through gritted teeth, and Harry just nodded, hoping Louis would know that he understood. Because now, he thought he understood everything. He and Louis weren’t just here, now, together. They had known each other in their pasts. That knowledge was what The Elders of Eroda were desperate to keep from them. And if Eroda didn’t want them to remember, that could only mean one thing - they had to see Deloria again. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

  
  


Harry found it hard to explain, even to himself, but over the next few days as they prepared for seeing Deloria again, he felt his newfound centeredness that had come with admitting his love for Louis and truly feeling it was dissipating, turning into something less liberating and a whole lot more sinister. It was only as they approached the epicenter of the island that he finally figured out what he was feeling - an unforgiving panic.

“Lou, wait, I …” Harry stopped walking, adjusting his helmet on his shoulders. He hadn’t gone out without it since their first trip to the island center, and it made him feel ashamed of how far back he’d retreated into himself, but Louis had only encouraged him, saying that his feeling safe was more important than anything else. It was that knowledge that had Harry stopping, wanting to tell Louis the truth right here, right now. 

“Yeah?” Louis asked, turning back. 

“I, uhh … I don’t think I want to try lucid dreaming again.” Louis was silent for a moment, contemplating him, and Harry rushed to continue. “I know it’s important to figure out how our pasts lead us to this moment, but I … I can’t do it.”

Louis moved forward, pulling Harry into an unexpected hug. The shame crept away as love filled him instead. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. I think maybe, now that we know what we know, we can glean more confirmation from just my memories. And maybe she’ll have something different you can try that makes you feel safer.”

“I love you,” Harry blurted out. The words still felt strange on his lips, but they also felt right. 

Louis smiled. “I know.”

“Cheeky,” Harry mumbled, following a laughing Louis through the curtain of vines. He didn’t really notice it day to day now, but as energy filled him, he realized how exhausted and run down he’d felt since their last visit. He wondered why that was, or maybe that’s just how it felt for people with magic to be near it. 

Deloria was waiting for them, her easel set up and angled so she was looking towards the entrance. She looked up briefly, adding a few more strokes and details before standing. 

“I feel I must apologize for how we left things. I became so excited over the prospect of discovering ways in which to remember that I may have taken it too far.”

Harry glanced at Louis and saw that his lips had tightened slightly, but he wasn’t saying anything. Harry was grateful - in a way, he felt as if this was his apology to accept.

“I understand. I want to remember my past as well. But I think, for now, I’d rather stay away from lucid dreaming.” Harry could see Deloria’s face drop, and he swallowed, hating to disappoint after everything she’d done for them. “But if there’s another way, I’d be willing to try it.”

“There are several techniques we can try. Louis, is this something you’re thinking of as well?” Deloria had now moved on to Louis, but Harry felt like she was avoiding his gaze … like she knew something and wasn’t telling him. But he’d done a lot of standing up for himself today - he felt exhausted already. 

Louis shook his head. “I’d be fine to attempt lucid dreaming once more. In fact, I feel like I must, for both of our sakes.” When Deloria looked at him questioningly, Louis continued, slipping his hand into Harry’s. “Harry and I, we discussed our dreams, and we discovered something. It seems that the timelines of both memories could potentially line up. What I mean to say is that the boy who tried to save Harry is me, and the person I was searching for is Harry.”

Deloria’s expression did not change, but Harry swore something in her eyes lit up. He couldn’t be sure, however, because she looked away in that moment. 

“It is possible, of course, though I’ve never heard of any Peculiar being searched for in such a way. I think we would need more memories to be certain.”

“And that’s why we’re here. We’re going to figure this out,” Louis said firmly. 

Harry listened to them discuss as Louis let his hand go and got himself ready for another journey into his own mind. He wasn’t sure why, but something was different about this place. It was the same to the eye - beautiful, tranquil, with the sound of the water gentler than the sea outside. But there was something else here too - a darkness, much like the one Harry had been struggling with for many years. But this one felt strange, like it was pure evil, and not just a manifestation of Harry’s own depression and self-deprecation. He shook himself. Deloria wasn’t evil, and neither was this place. It was the center of all magic here - they belonged where the magic was. 

“H, will you come sit with me?” Louis asked, and Harry obliged, taking off his helmet and settling down next to the slab of stone where Louis now lay. Before he could take the sedative, however, Harry grabbed hold of his hand. He wanted to have something for Louis to physically hold onto outside of his mind, just in case. 

“Now, since you’ve done this once, it should be easier for you to navigate. Listen for my voice.”

Deloria stood from where she’d been knelt down by her bag, and came to stand next to Louis’ head. Louis’ eyes drooped quickly, and before Harry could whisper words of encouragement, he was out. 

Harry felt extremely hot in that moment, and he pulled at the collar of his shirt, feeling sweat start to trickle down his back. His vision was becoming spotty as well. He thought about saying something, or about moving, or even letting go of Louis’ hand, but before words could form properly in his mind, everything around him went dark. 

He let out a gasp of surprise and fear, not knowing what was happening or what to do. Surely, he had just fainted from the heat, but it didn’t feel like unconsciousness, not that he would know. He still felt very much awake and aware. 

“Harry?”

Harry jumped and looked to his left. There was Louis, plain as day, staring at him in complete confusion. 

“Lou, where … what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. One minute, a new memory was forming in front of me and next it’s gone dark and then you … you’re here with me?”

Harry felt his own body, pinching his arm hard just to be sure. “Looks like it.”

Louis opened his mouth to say something else, but a scene was forming before them, surrounding them, until they stood in a small house, sunlight streaming through the windows. A younger Louis, probably 14 or 15 at this point, was standing in front of them, speaking to two adults and a girl around 17. 

Harry felt a sudden jolt of recognition, and though he couldn’t be sure at all, he thought he might be looking at his own family. 

“Lou, I think that’s …” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t even know what he could say that would make any sort of sense. They moved forward so as to hear what younger Louis was saying. 

“It’s been years, I know, but I haven’t stopped searching. I … I wanted you to know that. I’ve studied maps, magical documents of old, sea currents, and I know how to command a ship. I’m going out to look for him.”

“Louis, you can’t. You’re still a child, still growing,” said the man, but it was more out of what appeared to be fatherly concern than anything else. Louis shook his head.

“You don’t understand, Robin. I can’t stop. I promised him.”

The woman moved forward, concern etched in the lines of her face. “Sweetie, I know you miss him. We all do. But there’s nothing we can do. Once they disappear, they never come home.” Tears filled her eyes, and the girl behind her put a comforting arm around her shoulders. 

“But I have a plan. I’ve been studying up on the types of magic Eroda is said to have used, and their magic is weakening. That’s why they take our people, after all. And if I can get through and keep my memory, just for a few hours, I can find him and bring him home.” 

“I can’t let you do this, son. It’s too risky. We could lose you, too …”

“You’re his  _ family _ ! You should want him back just as badly as I do, and I have a way to do it. Why won’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, Lou. It’s that we’ve lost one son already. We couldn’t bear to lose another.”

Harry felt his throat tighten, and by glancing over at Louis, he could see that he was remembering this, clear as day. It was strange, though, to not hear Deloria calling commands to them. It was as if they were on their own in the world of dreams and memories. 

“The last words I said to him were … that I would never stop looking. I’m going to find him. And I’m going to bring him back.”

Louis sounded so determined, and Harry could feel it in his heart - Louis was coming to look for him. There was no denying it now that his and Louis’ lives had been tied together from the very beginning, and he was only now remembering just how strong their bond was and must have still been over the years they’d been apart. For Louis to leave his home and command a ship at 15 was beyond anything Harry would have ever been capable of himself, though if he had been searching for someone like Louis, he may not have stopped for anything. 

He focused back on the family - his family - as they nodded and hugged the younger Louis goodbye. Louis stayed next to him, their shoulders pressing together as they watched Louis’ younger self stop in front of a large picture on the wall. It was unmistakably Harry, though much younger and much happier looking. 

“I’m coming for you, H. I’m going to bring you home.”

Harry was suddenly yanked from the dream, waking fully back to reality. His hand was like a vice grip on Louis’, and as he turned, shaking the disorientation from his mind, he saw Louis sitting up too, tears tracing his cheeks. 

Deloria was no longer next to Louis, but rather back at her easel, the sound of her pencil on the canvas scratching loudly. She looked up as Harry struggled to stand, feeling the need to move with all of the information and emotions running circles around each other in his mind. 

“What … what was that?” Louis asked slowly, and Deloria hurried over to them. 

“Something I’ve only ever seen once before - when two souls are connected, and when they both possess magic, they can use that magic to share memories. I think having that connection - your hands - allowed Harry to partake in your memory. What did you see?”

“I saw my family.”

Harry heard himself say the words, but he wasn’t aware of his mouth moving. He felt completely dazed, trying to remember every inch of their faces - his father and mother and sister. For years he had been sure that his family must have hated him. They allowed him to be kidnapped. They never came looking for him. They never sent word. But now he had proof, solid proof, that they were alive and well, or had been a few years ago, and they wanted him back. He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or scared, but he’d figure that out eventually. 

“We were in their house. I was telling them that I was leaving to search for Harry, and they didn’t want me to leave. They didn’t want to lose me too. But I … I promised him.” Louis looked around at Harry, fresh tears in his eyes. “I promised you, H.”

“I know …”

Harry sat down hard on the rock next to Louis, and felt Louis’ arms go around him. He felt safe and content, and that feeling seemed to come from two places - the now, where he and Louis had found each other on this island where nothing good ever happened, and the past, where they’d lived another life but still loved each other just as much. Harry wanted to cry with relief, but he was still so drained and dizzy that the tears wouldn’t come. He just sat there and let Louis hold him while Deloria flitted around them, speaking in half sentences and trying to pull together what Harry and Louis already knew. 

“I’ve never seen magic used like that. It was incredible. And the fact that you could use it without permission from The Elders and make it work for you …” she stopped there, glancing at Louis, and Harry again got the feeling that she was holding something back. 

“I think that’s enough for today. You both look exhausted. I need to study this information, see if we can’t use this as a permanent solution to the memory block,” Deloria said, distracted as she continued to pace. 

“Yeah, I think we should … rest,” Louis said, slowly getting to his feet. Harry lifted his helmet under his arm and followed Louis, who was in a daze, still half under from the sedative. 

“Wait, Harry, can you stay back a moment? I think Louis may need a second to process this alone,” Deloria called after them. Louis immediately turned to Harry, shaking his head. Harry didn’t much want to stay either - whatever was off about Deloria today, he didn’t want to find out any more by being alone with her. But it could be important, and he didn’t want to be overbearing to Louis. 

“I’ll be fine, Lou. Just go wait outside, take a few breaths. I’m right behind you.”

Louis hesitated but nodded, letting Harry’s hand go and making his way through the vines and back out into the sea air. Harry turned back, walking over to where Deloria sat, now covering her painting with a sheet. 

“Is there something you wanted?” he asked, and when she looked up at him, Harry thought he might have been right in not wanting to stay. Her gaze was one of mixed emotions - sadness, fear, and pity. Something else was there, but Harry couldn’t quite figure it out. 

“I’m afraid I’ve come across some information. I wasn’t sure whether I should tell you, because it is quite delicate, but after today, after seeing the way you were with him, I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

Harry stared at her, completely confused. “What does this have to do with me and Louis?”

“Everything.”

Deloria stepped closer to him, holding out her hand. Harry backed away, not wanting to take it. 

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to share this scene with you. It won’t hurt. I just need you to see what I have seen.”

Harry looked over his shoulder towards the exit, where Louis was waiting for him. He desperately wanted to go to him and turn his back on Deloria, but the curiosity was too high. He had to know. 

He held out his hand and placed their palms together, not surprised when he fell once again into complete darkness.

It took a few moments before the scene emerged before him. It was dark, so dark he could barely see, but he could hear many voices, echoing around him as if he were in a cave. 

“You have done well, Louis.”

“He does not suspect me. He has fallen for every line,” said Louis, and Harry’s heart stopped.

“Just as we expected. You’ve gotten him to share with you how he rids himself of magic - those jars? We need them.”

“It will take a little while - he is with me constantly, and to keep up the facade, I must stay. But soon, you will have everything you need.”

Harry shook his head, refusing to accept what Louis was saying. This had to be some sort of trick. 

“It’s not real. You’ve brought me here to torture me, haven’t you? Messing with my head last time wasn’t enough?” Harry said, the venom in his voice surprising even himself, but Deloria just shook her head. 

“I witnessed this myself. You must listen.”

Harry didn’t want to. This had to be a lie, some sort of magical trick. But he could see Louis, speaking to multiple presences that he couldn’t see, but he could feel. They were twisted, evil, and his whole being seemed to rebel with every word they spoke. They must be The Elders.

“I expect that he hasn’t asked any questions, then?”

There was a silence, and then Louis spoke once more. “No, Masters. He thinks I’m just as much a Peculiar as he is. The shipwreck was a nice touch, I will say. He will never suspect that I’m not only Erodian, but loyal to you and only you. His magic must be controlled.”

“Good. Good. Good.”

The word echoed over and over again, a thousand voices chanting it until Harry’s head was throbbing with it. He ripped his hand away from Deloria’s and found himself back in the cave, lit with its mysterious light, with Deloria staring down at him. He’d fallen to his knees. 

“I didn’t want to tell you, but … I could see it in your eyes, and in your heart. You’re falling in love with him. And he’s been lying to you every moment you’ve been acquainted.”

Harry only then realized that he was crying. Tears were streaming down his face, dripping off his chin and onto the grass below. 

“I … hate you.” 

The words were vicious, something Harry never would have said before, but this time he’d easily recognized the feeling eating at him, and he wasn’t going to hold his emotions in any longer. Deloria looked shocked, but Harry just shook his head, standing and backing away from her. 

“I would have rather loved in a lie than have my happiness destroyed by the likes of you. But now you’ve ruined it all. I have no one.”

Harry turned his back, walking towards the exit. It was only when he’d pushed past the vines that he remembered Louis. Louis was waiting for him. But Louis wasn’t who he said he was, and Harry was not in the mood to be played. 

“Harry, thank god. I thought she’d gone and drowned you in the spring or something,” Louis said with a laugh. When Harry’s eyes landed on him, the usual feeling of love was still there, but it was poisoned now, and he was so angry that his hands balled into fists at his sides. Louis’ smile was sliding away as he moved closer, now concerned. “Harry, what’s-”

“Don’t. Don’t come any closer.”

Louis stopped at once, and while Harry would have once found his complete compliance with being told to stop endearing, he only found it weak now. 

“What’s going on?”

“You’ve been lying to me. This whole time, you’ve just been playing me like some idiot.”

“What? Harry, I don’t underst-”

“All those times you kissed me, encouraged me, said you loved me, were they  _ all  _ lies? Have you been working for The Elders your entire life, or was it just when I was getting close to fucking killing myself that they decided to recruit you to ruin me?”

Louis took another step closer, now looking scared. “Harry, I don’t know what happened in there, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never even met The Elders, I thought we were fighting them together.”

Harry found himself sneering, hating how innocent Louis was pretending to be. “That’s what you wanted me to think, isn’t it. You thought if you got me on your side, under your wing, that you could help them take what they needed. I can’t believe I …” Harry could feel himself losing control, tears spilling from his eyes. He found it almost comforting to let his walls go back up, to allow himself to slip back into his state of nothingness, of emptiness. It meant that he didn’t feel his heart breaking. “I never want to see you again.”

Louis was crying now too, clearly wanting to reach for him but not doing so. “Harry, please listen to me. Whatever she told you, it isn’t true. I love you!”

“Well, I don’t love you. How could I love someone who would rather see me fall prey to madness than leave his masters?”

Harry threw his helmet down onto the ground, watching as it rolled and tangled itself into the long grass, and walked away. He couldn’t have looked at Louis’ grief stricken face for another moment anyway, or his resolve would have crumbled. Thunder rumbled in the sky as he stumbled back to Eroda, just needing to be somewhere that Louis wasn’t. His mind was screaming, telling him to go back and run away at the same time, but one thought made itself known, repeating over and over. 

_ I should have just killed myself when I had the chance. _

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

_ Sometimes _

_ The search for the truth _

_ Brings out dark secrets in everyone; _

_ They change minds as the moon turns the tide. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos or comments! They're greatly appreciated :)


	4. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to every single person who has read this so far, and every person who will read it now that it's complete. I appreciate every single one of you more than you know. I hope you enjoy this final part! Until next time!
> 
> L .xx

_ Hurting is part of love, _

_ The good and the ugly. _

_ For a love not fought for _

_ Is a love lost by your own negligence _

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Louis had been standing on that hill for what felt like hours. Harry had faded into the distance a while back, but he was still looking after him. He’d even picked up his helmet, but for what reason, he didn’t know. Harry wanted nothing to do with him anymore, and Louis stood there, wondering how things could have gone so wrong so quickly. 

Harry hadn’t been the same when he’d come out of there, screaming about The Elders and Louis betraying him. It didn’t make any sense. None of it did. But he had seen it in Harry’s face - the hurt, the confusion, and the love that remained, even in his anger. No matter what Harry now thought, Louis knew that Harry still cared about him. And that was what led him to do what he did next. 

He was going to get proof that Deloria was crazy and setting them up. That was the only explanation for all this - Harry had been alone with her for five minutes and suddenly completely flipped the switch? It couldn’t be a coincidence. He was getting answers, even if he had to do it alone. 

And the lighthouse was as good a place as any to start his search. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Before he went running off on his quest, though, Louis knew there was one thing he needed to do. He knew that Harry didn’t want to speak to him, and for some strange reason, he had accepted that rather quickly, or maybe he was just suppressing it all so he could do what he had to do. But he knew that Harry, in the state he was in, would need his helmet. He would regret leaving it and he wouldn’t have the strength to come back for it. 

Louis had to return it. 

And so there he was, standing outside Harry’s door. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could hear the muffled sobs of a broken man from behind the door. He desperately wanted to bust the door down and take Harry in his arms and figure this out, but he didn’t think Harry would look highly upon that. So, holding back tears of his own, Louis placed Harry’s helmet outside his door, hoping it hadn’t made too much noise when it touched the ground. Harry would find it when he needed it. 

After that, it was only a quick detour to his room for a red shirt that he was pretty sure had been Harry’s at some point and some supplies, and he was off. 

He knew right away, from the moment he stepped outside, that there was a storm coming. Normally, knowing how bad storms could get in Eroda, he would have waited for it to blow over, but this wasn’t one of those times. Finding answers and getting Harry back were the only important things to Louis now, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do everything he could to make them happen. 

As he struggled across the rough, grassy terrain of Eroda, his mind started wandering, as it often did when he was alone. 

He and Harry had known each other before this. That much was clear to him. Everything about their stories fit together, and the fact that Louis has been in Harry’s parent’s house? Explaining that he was going to find their son and bring him home? It didn’t leave much up to question. 

There was only one thing Louis truly wanted to know, other than his past - where was home? For some reason, the name of the island, of where he and Harry had come from, was evading him. It seemed that in each of the memories he’d retained, he had never once spoken the name of it aloud. He had a feeling that when he finally figured it out, the moment would change everything. But wracking his brains like he had been for days only brought on blinding headaches, as Deloria had described. 

_ Deloria _ , Louis thought savagely as he climbed higher and higher, over piles of rock hidden by tall, dead grass. All of this was her fault. Sure, she had been helpful, but at what cost? Louis had learned some information about his past but had lost Harry, and that didn’t sit right with him. She must have said something to him to gain that reaction. And of course she had waited until Louis was out of the way to reveal it. That, to Louis, said only one thing - whatever she had told Harry was a lie. 

It had to be, though. Louis had never once met with The Elders. He hadn’t even known who or what they were until they’d first talked to Deloria. It seemed like ages ago to him now. There was no way that he could have been working with them … right? At this point, after everything Harry had shown him in his research, anything could have happened to him and he wouldn’t have known the difference. Had he been working for them this whole time? Was he a pawn in this horrible game?

He shook himself, shivering as an icy rain started to fall, the drops stinging his skin and soaking through Harry’s red shirt. No. He wasn’t going to allow Deloria to get in his head like that. He knew himself and he knew what he stood for, and now, he knew why he was here. He was here to rescue Harry, and that was exactly what he planned to do, no matter what it took. 

He struggled for hours, walking blindly as the rain slanted sideways, blowing directly into his face as he dragged himself further across the island. When the vague shape of the lighthouse came into view, Louis almost fell over with relief. Maybe he could rest inside, just for a moment, before getting on with the task at hand. 

He pushed against the wind, forcing his feet forward one step at a time. With every step he took, he thought about what he was going to do. He was going to prove that Deloria was manipulating them both. He was going to be sure Harry knew how he felt - how much he loved him. He was going to get them off this godforsaken island and he was going to bring Harry home, wherever home was. 

When he finally reached the base of the lighthouse, he leaned against the vines where he knew the door was concealed, breathing hard and wiping at his face, trying to get the rain out of his eyes. He fumbled for the door handle and slipped through the door. Inside, the wind’s howling was magnified as it swept down the tower and through the rooms at the bottom. 

Lous took several breaths, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. He wasn’t sure if Deloria had made it back before him - he  _ was _ sure, however, that if he were caught, it would not look good for him. But even with whatever magic she possessed, she couldn’t have beat him here, at least, not the way he had come. He would have seen her. He had made exceptional time despite the weather, and he took that moment to congratulate himself on not completely falling apart on this journey. The pain of Harry’s rejection and accusations was still burning in his chest like acid, eating away at his heart, but Louis reminded himself that he was here for Harry. They had spent too much time letting Deloria dictate how they were doing things. It was their turn now. 

Louis reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of matches. He’d slipped them in there during his fleeting moments back at the inn, remembering the darkness of the lighthouse. Praying that they weren’t too wet, he lit one. Flame flared in front of his eyes, and he slowly made his way down the narrow hallway. 

As he made his way, he could see the light catching on something metallic or shiny, and he turned his attention to the walls. There were paintings everywhere, of everything under the sun - people, landscapes, foodscapes, distorted images of storms, and the like. Louis didn’t find this strange - Deloria was an artist; she was bound to get bored enough to paint everything she saw. But as he got closer to the main room, he noticed an archway that he’d never seen before. 

His first match had burned down to his fingertips and he shook it out, lighting a second one as he turned and walked through the archway. Immediately to his left, he saw an unburned torch sitting in a cobweb-covered bracket, and he took the chance, lifting the match to light it. 

The room blazed suddenly white, and when Louis’ eyes had adjusted, he gasped. Every inch of the walls were covered in paintings. It was like a small alcove. But this time, they seemed to be arranged in groups of three. As Louis walked around, examining them, he noticed a pattern. And then it hit him. He stood before the last set, the only set that was incomplete, and he knew. Deep in his heart, he knew what was going on. He now understood, and that understanding made his insides squirm with fear. 

A sudden noise made Louis jump. Someone had entered the lighthouse. Louis ripped the torch out of the bracket and stamped out the flames with his foot, retreating into the furthest corner of the dark room. He watched as a flickering light passed the side room, and knew that he would have only seconds to run for it before Deloria caught him. 

Keeping to the wall, Louis crept forward, and when he saw light in the room at the end of the hallway, he darted in the other direction, heading for the door. 

The wind and rain battered him as he threw it open, and it tore the door from his hands, slamming it closed. He didn’t care. He ran into the storm, back across Eroda. 

He had to talk to Harry. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Harry hadn’t moved for hours. When he’d run away from Louis, it had taken every ounce of strength he had. He hadn’t wanted to believe Deloria, but after seeing that memory, he wasn’t sure what to think. 

He considered himself to be rather intelligent, and he thought, after everything he’d been through, that he would have seen right through any kind of act Louis had been putting on. It hadn’t felt like an act, none of it had. It had been real. 

But that didn’t seem to matter to Harry’s brain. In fact, all he could see was darkness. He picked apart every interaction he and Louis had ever had, looking for the moments where Louis could have slipped, revealing his true allegiance. He hated himself for that. 

When he’d gotten back to his room, he’d taken down his wallpaper and removed everything from his wall. This time, he’d done it calmly. He felt empty, and though he was used to emptiness, this one felt different. He felt hollowed out like a pumpkin, the edges of his insides burning so painfully that he felt like he might start breathing fire at any moment, incapable of holding the inferno inside him any longer. 

He stacked the papers and pictures and notes together and placed them, not in the rubbish bin like he thought he’d do, but in the bottom drawer of his desk. It had been empty for years - might as well hold the last remnants of his life’s work. It wasn’t like he’d have much use for it after today. 

He was just about finished when his fingers brushed against something soft, and he pulled from the pile the scrap of material he’d found when he had gone looking for Louis’ ring. The colors were still vibrant, so beautiful, and now Harry felt a pull towards them. They were the colors of his home, the place he’d grown up, the place he’d met Louis. 

Harry wished he could remember. All he had to go on was a half-baked memory of being kidnapped and Louis’ shared memory about talking to his parents. He wanted to know more. He wanted it spelled out for him, because he was sick and tired of not knowing. It ate at him, agitating the burning sensation in his chest, and he clutched the fabric in his fist, wishing for something, anything, to come back to him. When nothing happened, he let out a frustrated sob and sat down hard on the bed, tears sliding down his cheeks. 

In retrospect, he should have known it was all too good to be true. What kind of person spent his whole life searching and found everything at the same time? Answers … love … it just was too perfect. And here he was, left without either of those things, all because he’d let his guard down. He’d allowed himself to entertain the idea that he deserved to live in happiness, or at all, and as a result, he’d destroyed what was left of himself. 

Right now, however, he couldn’t find it in him to care. He just wanted to know where he came from, so that he could put a name to his birthplace and made it feel real to him. Right now, everything seemed like a far off entity crafted purely from magic and dreams. 

He lay back, tears now sliding sideways off his face and dampening his pillow. Maybe he should just let it happen - stop holding it all back and let the sorrow consume him. It couldn’t feel any worse then that day by the cliffs, walking into the water and feeling its chill, breathing in what was to be his last breath. 

Curling on his side, he buried his face into his pillow and let it go - he screamed until he was hoarse and still he cried. Everything hurt. The things he’d kept buried way down since the day he’d been left to fend for himself were now surfacing, mixing with the loss of Louis and tearing him down, piece by painful piece. 

And now, here he was, staring at the ceiling with swollen eyes and a sore throat, clutching that small piece of fabric to his chest and wishing for an easy way out of this hell he’d put himself in. But there wasn’t one - he had always known that. It was the hard way or the harder way, but no matter which path you chose, there was hardship and there was pain. There was a time where he thought there might be a third path, one that hurt considerably less, but it had been obliterated by three minutes of a shared memory. 

Harry finally sat up, rubbing at his burning eyes. Maybe a shower would do him good. He felt like he still had so much more to release, even though his body felt battered and beaten. He swayed dangerously on his feet but made it to the door, pulling it open. 

At his feet lay a gold diving helmet. One of the windows had now fallen completely out, and there was a dent in one side. But it was there, plain as day, and there was only one person who could have put it there. 

Harry sank to his knees, fresh sobs tearing themselves from his throat as he lifted the helmet and cradled it in his arms. If he was being true to himself, and he was, the only thing he really wanted now was Louis. Despite everything, Louis had always been the only person to ever make him feel worthy of life. He had shown up and transformed the way Harry saw things. He had been there when Harry had fallen apart. He had supported him every step of the way and hadn’t ever said a bad word to him. Could all of that really have been an act? Harry didn’t think so - no one could fake love. No one could fake the connection they had when they laid together. No one could speak so sincerely and be working to destroy the person they comforted and protected. 

And yet, here Harry was, alone, and it felt so much worse. It felt worse than being kicked out of the orphanage. It felt worse than every dead end he’d ever hit in his research. It felt worse than the chilly sea water lapping at his chest, calling him to its depths. 

He somehow made it back to his bed, though he couldn’t be sure how. His head was pounding and his eyes hurt, but the tears still came, keeping his cheeks perpetually wet. He held the helmet to his chest and put his head on his pillow. Right now, he just wanted it to go away. He wanted to sleep. And he wasn’t sure he cared if he woke up again. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

It seemed clear to him now, though maybe he’d known all along and that was what had drawn him to this place, but the moments in his life that had been the most important had all happened here, in the place where so many Peculiars before him had come to end their misery. He knew now that their misery had truly been madness, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d all died, taken out by Eroda itself, for the simple reason that they’d had what Eroda did not - magic. And that magic hadn’t been their saving grace - it had been their destruction. 

He hadn’t slept - he’d spent the night tossing and turning, barely making it into a state of half sleep before waking, his heart rabbiting in his chest and his breaths short. The emptiness that was usually filled by Louis’ presence ate away at him, so much so that he’d had to get out, and he’d ended up here, standing on the rocky beach where, just a few months ago, he had almost ended his life. 

His helmet was sitting in the sand, in almost the same spot where he’d intended to leave it for eternity, and right next to it were his jars, which he’d picked up on the way down. For some reason, he had an urge to do something, anything, and he just needed to get it out; this time, screaming wasn’t enough. 

Harry picked up one of the jars, looking out over the ocean. The water was flat and grey today, and it lapped lazily at his shoes, but he hadn’t taken any notice to it. His mind had been so preoccupied with trying to keep his anger and sadness at bay that he had no time to think of such trivial things as his socks getting wet. 

_ I wish the pain would go away _ , he thought, moving the jar from hand to hand. It was true enough, he really did want the pain to go away, but he was afraid that if he forced it away, it would take every emotion that he’d come to love and cherish with it, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to let those feelings go. 

_ I wish I could leave _ was his next thought, but he threw that one aside. He could leave, honestly, whenever he wanted. There was technically nothing stopping him from stealing a boat and sailing off and away from the place that had been the cause of all his torment, but he couldn’t. Not only did he have nowhere to go, but he felt duty bound to solve the mysteries surrounding him and the other Peculiars. With all he’d learned and been told, it was clear to him that they all needed him to find the answers, so they could finally be at peace. They deserved that much. 

_ I just wish I’d died that day _ , he thought to himself, and then he stomped his foot angrily, his hand tightening around the jar. He had come to the point where he knew that that wasn’t what he truly wanted. What he wanted was Louis, and he couldn’t have him. Not anymore. 

The jar flew from his hand, shattering against a rock out to sea. He thought he heard a tiny scream echoing out over the waves, but he was sure he imagined it. It wasn’t like the jars actually held anything other than air - what he’d done, this coping mechanism, was all metaphorical. 

He sat down hard in the sand, rubbing at his eyes roughly. He’d had enough crying, but apparently his body had an abundance of tears left. Looking up, he let himself get lost in the scenery and in his thoughts, all of them turning to Louis. 

It didn’t matter to him what Louis had done. None of that mattered, because it didn’t change how Harry felt. As angry as he was at Louis, he still loved him. He still felt his heart beat a little faster every time he said his name. He still felt Louis’ lips on his own every time he closed his eyes. He still heard Louis’ voice in his head, like he had become some sort of positive conscience. He knew that he should hate Louis with everything in him, but he couldn’t, and his inability to let Louis go made him even angrier, but this time at himself. 

With a yell of frustration, Harry grabbed another jar and threw it. This one sailed into the water, bobbing as the waves carried it away. He picked up another and another, watching glass shatter and hearing the faint cries in his mind of all his pent up feelings over the years being released to the world at large. Maybe someone would hear him and come for him. Or maybe that someone had already come and gone, and Harry had been left behind. 

The sound of footsteps on gravel made him turn around sharply. No one, not even the bravest of fishermen in Eroda, came down here. In fact, Harry was pretty confident that he was the only person to set foot on this beach since the last Peculiar had died. A bedraggled form was running towards him, his hair matted to his forehead and his clothes torn and damp looking. It was only when he was close enough for Harry to see his blue eyes that he realized it was Louis. 

Louis skidded to a halt in front of Harry, breathing hard and looking terribly exhausted. He gulped in lungfuls of air, trying to catch his breath, and Harry just waited, staying where he was.

“H-Harry … fuck I’ve been trying to find you all night …”

“What do you want?”

Harry’s voice was flat, as it had been when they’d first met, but he couldn’t muster up enough energy to sound interested or frustrated. Louis’ face dropped a little, and he assumed a more passive stance, his hands clasped in front of him, even though his hair was dripping into his eyes. Harry couldn’t help but look at him. He was wearing a red shirt that now had a tear in one arm, and Harry was almost sure that it had been his at one point. His cheeks were a beautiful flushed red, and his eyes were wide, pleading with him as they stared at each other. 

“I know that you’re angry with me, but I need you to hear me out. I …” he said desperately, pausing, and Harry stared at him, trying not to think of how beautiful he looked, even in his current state. He was supposed to hate him. “I don’t know what Deloria said or did to you, but she’s not who she says. She’s been lying this whole time. She’s been trying to put us against each other from the beginning. I found proof, and I need you to come with me.”

Harry shook his head. “I saw you, Louis. Deloria showed me her memory. You were talking with The Elders, saying that I didn’t suspect anything and that you were going to help them in any way you could. I thought that we … I mean, I l-loved you, and ... “

Louis took a step closer, then seemed to think better of it, and stepped back. “Harry, I swear to you on our home, I’ve never seen or spoken to The Elders. Whatever you saw was a lie. If she can induce lucid dreaming, don’t you think she could manipulate her own memory?”

Harry hadn’t thought of that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Louis to have the satisfaction of being right, so he stayed silent. Louis’ voice was cracking now, and the sound made tears prick in Harry’s eyes.

“I’m telling you, she’s the one working with them. I’ve seen … but you have to see it for yourself. I know you won’t take my word for it right now.” Louis took a deep breath. “All I’m asking is for you to come with me. If you don’t believe me after this, then I’ll leave you alone.”

Louis finished abruptly, pressing his lips together and waiting. Harry thought, and his brain was screaming at him to refuse and continue defacing his own coping mechanism, but his heart was saying to believe Louis, just one more time. On any other day, he knew exactly what he would have chosen, but things had changed in drastic ways, and he found himself thinking and feeling differently than he ever had before. He knew what he had to do. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

As they neared the final hill that would put the lighthouse in their sight, Louis suddenly stopped, and Harry found himself halting as Louis doubled over, looking ill. Harry ran to him, holding him upright and guiding him to a rock to sit. 

“How long have you been up?” he asked, the concern rising in him so fast that it almost hurt. Louis shrugged. 

“Since the morning of our second visit with Deloria, so about two days? I don’t know, I just had to find answers. I … I didn’t want to lose you. And then when I did, I knew it was too important to wait. I just … need a minute to … breathe.”

Harry sat there with him, letting Louis lean against him, and he could almost believe that nothing had changed between them, that this was just another one of their adventures to discover more information about their past and their possible future. But there was still that nagging doubt in his mind that Louis might be leading him into a trap. It was the last thing he wanted to think about, but unfortunately, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Are you … is this some sort of trick?” he found himself asking, and Louis looked up. Harry felt horrible for even bringing up such a thing, but he couldn’t keep it inside. He needed the truth. “I’m sorry, Lou, I just … I don’t know what to believe right now. I trusted you and then Deloria just blew that trust to smithereens.”

Despite the severity of the conversation and situation, Louis’ mouth turned up slightly in a smirk. “Smithereens? Loving your word choice.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but inside, his heart was suddenly doing something that resembled the happiness that usually filled him in Louis’ presence. It was fighting through the mass of darkness, and it was winning. 

“If I was working with The Elders, they’d have you by now. I wouldn’t have wasted time. But Deloria plays a long game, and she has been for ages. The things I’ve seen … you’ll understand when we get there.” Louis sighed and put a hand to his stomach, which was growling uncontrollably. Harry reached into a pocket and pulled out a limp piece of fish jerky. He handed it over, and Louis choked it down. It was his least favorite of Harry’s snacks, but he seemed desperate enough. 

Harry stood and offered his hand to Louis. Louis hesitated, but Harry nodded, and Louis took it, rising a little unsteadily but looking a bit better. His face was no longer the pale white it had been just a few minutes ago. 

“C’mon. We don’t have much time - she could return at any moment. We have to get in and out before she sees us.”

Harry followed Louis as he crested the hill and hurried towards the white tower in the distance. For someone who had been awake for two days and counting, Louis sure was determined, and Harry had to admit, his curiosity and need to know the truth had gotten the better of him. He could feel the anticipation rising, filling that empty space with something less than familiar but more than inviting. 

When they reached the base of the lighthouse, Louis walked all the way around it before coming back to Harry and the concealed door. “Seems like she’s not here. We’d better hurry.”

In they went, and as soon as the darkness enclosed around them, light flared up, and Harry saw Louis’ face in the low flame of a match. Without saying another word, Louis beckoned, and Harry followed, both of them walking slowly and quietly, as though they expected to be caught. 

Harry thought they were headed to the main room, but Louis turned off sooner than that, into an archway that Harry hadn’t ever noticed before. He followed, squinting into the darkness to try and see what Louis might be getting at.

“Okay … I’m going to light the torch, though I’m not sure if it will work after I stood on it before …” Louis’ voice said from somewhere to his right and ahead. Moments later, the room was lit by the blazing light of the torch, and Harry’s mouth dropped open. 

The walls were covered in paintings. They were all clearly Deloria’s style, and most were signed by her, though a few of the older ones seemed to be signed with a K instead of a D. As he turned around, he could see that the pictures were in groups of three, spaced out along the wall so it seemed like mini timelines. He walked up to the oldest one, gazing at the scenes depicted. 

There was a ship off in the distance, bearing the Erodian flag, but there was a different insignia in the center, something that made Harry’s skin crawl. He remembered that flag - it was the same as the one that had flown from the boat that had taken him hostage. The next one in the series showed a man crawling on his knees on the beach, obviously searching for something. But the third was the one that caught his attention the hardest - the same man, looking years older, though the pictures were dated only a year or so after the second, was slumped against a rocky face on a familiar beach, bottles surrounding him. He was clearly dead. 

Harry moved to the next set, and then the next, but every one was the same - a person arriving, struggling, and dying, each more gruesome than the last. It was only when he reached the last three sets that he finally connected everything in his mind, and the fear gripped him so tightly that he staggered. 

The paintings were of him and Louis. 

His first one was similar to the very first painting he’d looked at, but this time, the ship was closer. He could see a child, tied to the base of the mast, and a woman standing by him, her hair flying in the wind and her dark eyes fixed directly forward. Something nagged him at the back of his mind, but he ignored it in favor of the second one. It was himself again, a few years older, screaming himself hoarse into a jar. He felt suddenly exposed - he had thought no one had ever seen him, or cared, but clearly, Deloria had been keeping her eye on him. 

He didn’t have a third painting, but there were two other sets, incomplete, and the more he saw, the more terrified he became. 

Louis’ first one was of him on the beach, with his back to the crowd, alone. His second one was him standing up to the bullies that had come for Harry the one day in town. 

It was the third set, sitting between his and Louis’, that made him feel physically sick. 

The first one pictured Louis in the arms of a helmeted man - himself. It had been the day Harry had rescued Louis from the beach. 

The second one was Louis laying on a rock, his eyes closed. Harry was shown next to him, holding his hand, his eyes also closed. This one must have been finished a mere 24 hours ago, as this had only just happened. 

Harry stepped closer, as though to touch them, but thought better of it. There was something strange about these paintings - they seemed to radiate an enormous amount of energy, and he didn’t know why. 

“She uses her skills as a painter to capture magic from Peculiars,” Louis whispered, confirming Harry’s worst fears. “And she wasn’t the only one - the older paintings are by someone else. She’s been helping The Elders steal magic from people like us for years. And it looks like we’ve been giving her a lot to work with.” Harry swallowed hard, turning to face Louis, who was looking devastated. “I would never lie to you, Harry, and I would never betray you, especially not like this. Deloria’s been taking our magic without us realizing, and I … I can’t take her down alone. I need you.”

“That’s why … that’s why we’ve been so exhausted. She’s been leeching our own natural power from us this whole time … all that talk about using a lot of magic to attempt to remember, the lucid dreaming - it wasn’t dreams. It was us breaking through the barrier ...” Harry said slowly. Saying it out loud made it much scarier, but he had to say it. He had to make Louis understand that he realized the danger they were in. He now knew that anything Deloria had told them was a lie, including that memory. “Louis, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have … I should have trusted you.”

Louis smiled sadly. “It’s alright. I understand. Sometimes we need to believe in someone so much that we choose the wrong person, but I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, and we’re going to figure this out, together.”

Harry let out a breath and found himself suddenly in Louis’ arms, both of them falling into each other as they hugged. When he held Louis, he felt more alive than ever, and he could truly believe every word Louis said - they were going to get out of this, somehow. 

“Well, isn’t this a pretty picture. Maybe I should use this for my final piece.”

Deloria’s voice echoed around the small room, and they broke apart. Harry could feel Louis’ panic, though he wasn’t sure how. Maybe it was because the same panic was now filling him, clouding every other feeling. Before he could do anything, Deloria had thrust her hands out towards them, and a sudden darkness rushed through the room, taking reality away and plunging them into complete and utter silence. 

  
><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Waking up felt wrong in so many ways, but the first of those that Harry’s mind could fully comprehend was that he couldn’t move. He didn’t seem to be tied up or anything of the sort. But when he tried to move his fingers, his arm, his neck, he couldn’t. What was more, he felt achy, like he’d been laying in bed sick for days. His head pulsed with a constant headache and his muscles felt weak and shaky, despite the fact that he wasn’t using them in any way. He wasn’t sure how he was still breathing, but he was, even if they were shallow breaths, just enough to keep him alive to feel his very being slipping slowly into madness. He was sure that the room was cold, but he felt hot all over, like he was sinking into boiling water. He knew that he was dying - that much he could feel, but for once, he didn’t accept that fate readily - he wanted the opposite. He wanted to live, and the frantic beating of his heart against his chest only made his will to live that much stronger. 

He wanted to look for Louis, but he could barely muster the energy to open his eyes, and in any case, he couldn’t turn his head. He thought he could feel him though, like a constant presence that he now had in his life. It was comforting, but only just, for Deloria had taken them at the very moment that they’d discovered her treachery, and he had no idea where he was. 

There was a sound of faint humming, and Harry wrenched his eyes open, forcing himself to see. He was leaned up against a pile of books, most of them molded and falling apart. They were in the main room, they must be, but it looked nothing like he remembered. Everything had been pulled from the shelves in what seemed like obvious rage, and now he and Louis were sitting in the middle of the destruction. 

In front of him, which was the only direction he could look, was the top of Deloria’s bushy bun, just visible over the top of her canvas. Harry could see her arm moving as she painted with delicate but determined strokes. His head was fuzzy, and becoming more so with every passing moment, but he knew one thing - the fact that she was painting and he was incapable of moving or doing anything at all, was not good. She was taking their magic from them, but this time, she wasn’t bothering to hide it. 

“What have you done, Deloria?” he asked, forcing the words out with difficulty. Even his jaw wasn’t responding as it normally would. 

“What I’ve always done, dear Harry. I’m using the powers granted to me by The Elders to give them what they need - raw power.”

Harry scowled, but he had no response to that, because he had already known. He just didn’t think she’d admit it that easily. Of course, she had them at her mercy, so he supposed it didn’t matter what she said now. They were going to die.

“You and your little boyfriend really thought you could get the better of me, didn’t you? Tell me, what did you plan to do with the paintings I’ve created after you discovered what I’ve been doing?”

Harry opened his mouth, trying to formulate some witty retort, but it was Louis’ voice that answered first, coming from just behind him and to his left. Harry wondered how long he’d been conscious. 

“We were going to burn them. Every single one of them, even those that weren’t by you. Even if they had no magic left in them. It’s the least you’d deserve for what you’ve done to us, to everyone who’s come before us,” he said, the bite in his voice something that both terrified and impressed Harry. 

Deloria laughed. “Oh, I can’t take all the credit. My predecessor, Kieran, was a master with the brush. He captured scenes so poignant that he took a grown adult’s magic in a matter of weeks. Sometimes, even days. If I am half as great as he is when I die, I’ll have lived up to the legacy set before me.”

Harry would have shuddered had he not been completely immobilised. He wasn’t sure what he could say or do that would have any positive effect on this situation. As far as he could tell, they were stuck with no way out, and Deloria was going to leech all of their magic until they went crazy. He could feel it - something inside him was breaking, second by second, as she continued to brush paint across the canvas. 

“Then why help Harry? Why help me? Why do any of this?” Louis asked, but his voice sounded weaker than before, and Harry wanted to cry. Louis had always been so strong, and his voice was what carried that strength. That strength seemed to be slipping away with every word he uttered. All Harry wanted was to protect Louis from that pain. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Helping you and Harry was more of an experiment than anything. In fact, I was one of the many that was involved in his capture, but The Elders heard tell of some weakening in the barriers, and they sent me to test those theories. I had to see if there was any possibility of future Peculiars breaking through our magic. And there was. I had nothing left to do but end it, here and now, and make sure you two didn’t leak the secret to the others.”

“What others?” Harry said, his mind sharpening for a moment. 

“Well, your people, of course.” Deloria looked surprised, as though they should have been smart enough to figure that one out. “They’ve been trying for centuries to find ways to break through and rescue our people. Well, they say rescue, but we know they would throw us in prison the moment we left Eroda. No, much better that we stay here, where magic is orderly and people obey the rules.”

“You’re telling me you like being forced into your way of life? You enjoy listening to The Elders and not knowing anything about the history of this place? How can you be so completely narrow-minded that you would blindly follow anyone?”

Deloria stopped painting and glared at Harry, as though his words had actually affected her. “The Elders keep the peace. No one here has used magic for the wrong reasons. We all have order, and that’s all we need.”

“You can’t seriously believe that. You’re using the life force of other human beings to sustain your ‘order’!” Louis very nearly yelled, and Harry wished he could reach out for him, but moving his hand was impossible. “You’re doing it right now. It’s unjust, it’s inhumane, it’s …” Seemingly unable to find the right word, Louis fell silent. Deloria’s expression did not change. 

“It’s our way of life. How you Peculiars are brought up is barbaric. Letting everyone and anyone use their magic - it would lead to complete and utter anarchy.”

“It doesn’t, and never has. It’s peaceful,” Harry said, frustrated, and Deloria laughed again. 

“How would you know? You can’t even remember the name of your home.” She looked upward. “And what a name it is. So beautiful, and so tragic, that you won’t live long enough to remember where you came from. Maybe it’s for the best - you wouldn’t want to return there.”

“Anywhere is better than here,” Louis shot back, but his heart wasn’t in the words. He sounded tired, too tired. 

“It doesn’t matter. My masterpiece is almost complete. A few more minutes, and you’ll both lose your sanity, and I will be a hero. Deloria, painter of Eroda, a new addition to The Elders.”

Harry closed his eyes then. That feeling he’d recognized earlier, the one of something breaking, had grown stronger, and he hadn’t noticed until then, too focused on figuring out why Deloria had done what she did. 

But he made a decision then - he wasn’t just going to let her do as she pleased and leave him to a short life of misery and insanity. He was going to fight back.

“If you’re going to kill us, then, you might as well tell us who The Elders are. You know, to entertain us as we slowly slip into madness,” Louis said conversationally, and Harry wondered if he knew what he was trying to do. He was grateful that Louis was asking questions, because now, he could focus. 

“A lot of outsiders, especially from your home, think The Elders to be a faceless group, but they are in fact of the people. The job is usually passed down in families, continuing down the line until the line ends. There have always been three, but after I finish with you, a fourth seat will be added.” Deloria sighed, as though this was her goal in life, and continued with relish in her voice. “In fact, you both know them. Marvin, the Minister. People don’t run from him because they see him in the mornings - they run from him because they know something is different about him. The power he radiates scares Erodians, because they don’t understand how much Marvin sacrifices to keep them safe.”

Harry was listening, but now he was trying to clear his mind, searching for long lost feelings and slivers of memory, hoping that they would come to something and drag him back from the feeling of doom that was beginning to envelop him. 

“Susan, the school teacher, is another. She oversees our children and raises them to be obedient to our ways. That was a perfect choice, if I do say so myself, but I think I could add to their mix.” Deloria painted a few more strokes and made some poking motions with her paint brush, and Harry felt like she was sticking needles into his skin. Off to his left, Louis whimpered, which only strengthened Harry’s resolve. 

“And, of course, Miss Ophelia Opal. The owner of the orphanage.” Harry’s eyes flew open at that, the fear clawing at his insides at the mention of her name. “She is the eldest of us, the one who has held her position the longest. Her father, the Elder in the seat before her, died when she was only 14. She took up his seat immediately, and has been there ever since. She is ruthless, but wise. An inspiration.”

Harry refused to hear another word of this. He hated hearing Deloria praise them for the damage they’d done, for the heartbreak they’d caused, and for the twisted reality they were impressing upon the children. He had to do something. He had to stop this. But first, he had to get free of Deloria. And that thought, the one of the children, and of Louis, who was now panting behind him, gave him the strength he needed. 

He let his eyes close again, blocking out Deloria as she droned on and on about The Elders and their greatness and glory, and instead focused on every tiny detail he could remember about his home. He knew it had been beautiful, with its blue skies and white sand beaches and clear water. He knew the heat of the sun tanned him golden brown and that, when he had stood on that beach in his memory, he had felt more at peace than he had every moment he’d spent on Eroda. He remembered the faint laughter that had come to him twice, here on Eroda, where no one ever laughed or smiled. Those moments had given Harry hope, something he thought he’d given up on the day he’d almost ended his life. He thought of Louis, how he seemed to bring the sun with him wherever he went, just by existing. His energy was invigorating, bringing the brightest light to the deepest darkness, not just on Eroda but in Harry’s own mind and body. 

As he sat there, his head started aching, but he clenched his fist and fought it, determined to remember. It was his mind. He had control. 

And that’s when he realized that he could move. Not a lot - barely any, but he had moved his fingers in clenching his fist, and he wanted nothing more than to hold onto Louis and somehow help him fight this. Inch by careful inch, he forced his hand back and over, feeling his ring scraping through the dirt on the floor, keeping that thought of sun and safety alive in his mind. 

His hand touched Louis’ fingertips and he reached with one last mighty effort, grabbing Louis’ hand in his and holding as tightly as he could. He could feel the cool metal of Louis’ own ring, which he must have been wearing, against his palm, and suddenly, he felt a surge of energy, the same type that he’d experienced walking into the magical center of Eroda, and on the day he’d broken one of his jars accidentally. Only now, he knew what it was and he understood it - that feeling was magic, and he and Louis were feeding into each other, sharing strength. Harry’s head felt like it was about to burst with the pain, but he strained his mind, picturing himself taking a hammer to a glass wall and smashing it as hard as he could. 

It came to him in one blinding, agonizing moment, and the magic restraining him vaporized with a small pop. His hand tightened on Louis’ automatically as one beautiful word made its way to the forefront of his mind. He opened his mouth, and at this moment, Deloria seemed to realize that her spell had been broken. She stood, as if to redo the spell or stop Harry from speaking, but she was too late. The word was already being spoken, and though it was only one word, it meant everything to Harry to say it and know what it meant. 

“Nevaeh.”

Deloria screamed as if she were in agony, falling back against her stool and dropping her paint brush. Harry leapt to his feet, turning to pull Louis up with him. Louis still looked dazed, but he was staring at Harry with wonder. His clothes were torn and ruined and his eyes were red-rimmed. His cheeks were flaming pink, and his hair was disheveled, sticking up on one side. Harry had never seen anything or anyone more beautiful.

“Our home. Nevaeh is our home,” Louis said, tears brimming in his eyes, and Harry pulled Louis to him, crushing him in a hug. He knew they had no time to be indulging in such trivial things, but he felt that he needed that moment. After years of not knowing and even more months of being right there but unable to remember, he could name the place where he was born. That one word changed everything. 

“C’mon, run!” Harry said, his voice loud and strong, and Louis seemed to snap out of his daze, adrenaline and purpose surging through his limbs. 

“We have to burn everything. It’s the only way. We have to release all that magic so The Elders can’t use it. Quickly!”

As they hurried towards the hallway that would lead them to the exit, Deloria seemed to regain strength herself, and began to pull herself up off the ground, papers and dust and dirt beginning to swirl around her. 

Louis leaped over her and Harry followed, just managing to snatch the unfinished painting from the easel and tuck it under his arm. He could feel wet paint soaking through his ruined shirt, but he didn’t care. They only had one job to do, and he could leave any stone unturned. 

Back in the painting room, Louis picked up the torch that he’d clearly discarded, but Deloria hadn’t thought to put it out or take it with her. Looking back at Harry, Louis held it to the oldest of the paintings, those done by Kieran, and the flame caught. The canvas was so old that it went up quickly, and Louis ran from set to set, lighting them from the bottom. Harry watched as the flames began to consume the room, and he covered his face with his shirt, not wanting to breathe in the smell of burning paint and old wood. 

When Louis reached their paintings, he handed the torch to Harry and took the unfinished one from under his arm, laying it with the others. Harry leaned forward, feeling the heat of the flames on all sides, and threw the torch at his own set of paintings. 

As he watched them go up in flames, he thought he could see the magic leaving them, almost like a trail of sparkles and wind. It was only there for a second, but Harry knew that they had done what they needed to do. 

They could still hear Deloria screaming as they ran from the room and down the narrow hallway. The concealed door had been left wide open - Deloria must have assumed that she wouldn’t need to close it after confronting them, but she’d been wrong. About everything. 

Harry sprinted through it, Louis right behind him, and they slammed it shut together, their hands against the stone like they could force it to shut forever. 

It was at this moment that they looked at each other, and everything that had just happened, everything that they now knew, hit Harry fully. He reached for Louis, but Louis was already there, and their lips were moving against each other in a frantic but much needed kiss. 

“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” Harry mumbled against Louis’ lips, and Louis just smiled. 

“I will never stop loving you.”

They stood there, taking in the moment, until they saw smoke seeping through the cracks of the door. 

“We’d better get out of here,” Louis suggested, and Harry couldn’t have agreed more. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

As they hurried across the rough terrain, Harry started to remember. 

It wasn’t like it was all rushing back to him at once, but whatever they’d done by breaking the barrier to their own minds and burning the paintings that contained the magic was working. It was almost like the whole island was feeling the effects. 

Every step he took, small things kept cropping up in his mind - the smell of his mother’s perfume, his favorite snack from the beach food stand, and the bells that had rung every twelfth hour, signalling midday and midnight on Nevaeh. 

Just being able to say the name of his home made him feel almost giddy with happiness, and thinking didn’t cause him any pain. Next to him, Louis still seemed exhausted, but his eyes were bright and he was clearly on a mission. As was Harry. After what they’d done, Harry knew they would probably be less welcomed than before, or their presence would cause some sort of pandemonium. Either way, they needed to leave Eroda, and the sooner they did that, the better. 

“I’ve got a boat waiting for us,” Louis said breathlessly as they spotted their hill and the cliffs beyond in the distance. Harry stopped, looking over in shock. 

“You have … but how did you …”

Louis smiled, a mischievous and earnest glint in his eyes. “When I was coming back to get you, to tell you everything, I sort of … made a contingency plan, one that counted on us getting out of here. I guess you could say I had some sort of extreme faith in our abilities.”

Harry found himself smiling at this, shaking his head. Only Louis would think of these things. But he gestured for Louis to continue as they picked up their brisk pace once more. 

“I went to Peter and asked him to ready a boat for us. His father had one that they never use, as he used to be a fisherman before owning the pub. He seemed so eager to help, and it seemed like the least likely course of action for him to get in trouble with. I told him to hide it in that small bay I found. He promised he would, so once we reach the beach, we can just … go.”

It seemed like such a strange thing to Harry, being able to leave Eroda. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had the ability to leave before, but he felt like he’d accomplished something - not only had he uncovered the mystery that left most Erodians helpless as they lead their daily lives, but they’d destroyed any chance of The Elders being able to use magic against them if they tried to stop them from leaving. In his mind, he was leaving Eroda in a better place than what it had been since he’d arrived, and he could only hope that the people would stand against the tyranny that had unknowingly run their lives for so long. 

It was as they climbed over the height of the hill that had become a sort of place for their reconciliation, Harry had a thought. 

“Lou, I think we might need to make a quick detour.” Louis looked at him quizzically, and he quickly elaborated. “I still have some jars left, you know, from the past years. I think they might hold enough magic to get us home. I know you know how to sail, but just in case …” he trailed, off, looking hopefully at Louis, and relaxed when Louis nodded. 

“I think at this point, we need all the help we’re going to get. I barely have a handle on my own magic as it is, and you haven’t used yours in years. Might as well.”

They turned right, heading for the concealed stairs in the cliff face that would take them down to the beach. This time, however, Harry didn’t dread his descent to the water. Everything that this place had represented to him had been turned into something else, all thanks to Louis. They had had their first meeting up on that hill. Harry had admitted his faults and his fears to Louis here, and Louis had kissed him. Louis had come to him even when he knew he wouldn’t be welcomed, and had saved him from a certain irreversible fate. But while Harry had once dreaded every moment that he lived on, he now relished the thought of life, and delighted in the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to live it alone anymore. 

Reaching the beach, they hurried across the sand to where Harry had left not only his remaining jars, but his helmet. He scooped up the jars into his pockets and then picked up the helmet, holding it out in front of him. He felt conflicted about leaving it behind - it had represented so many parts of his life that he would rather forget, but in a way, it was a reminder of the things he’d overcome to get back home - back to Nevaeh and back to Louis. 

Louis came to stand at his shoulder, having also added jars to his pockets. They stood there, the ocean breeze lifting Harry’s hair off his face. He felt tears in his eyes, though he wasn’t sure what about this situation warranted them. 

“Take it with you. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t,” Louis said softly, and Harry turned to him. How Louis always knew what to say and how to help him deal with the emotions inside him was beyond anything Harry had ever experienced, and he made a vow then, to never let Louis go, no matter what happened to them in the future. Louis was too precious a person - Harry could not and would not lose him again. 

They headed back up to the hill in silence, but as they went, the clouds seemed to be thinning. The cool air that always blew in from the ocean had a warmth to it that Harry only remembered in his memories. Louis had paused, taking in a deep breath as they reached the top of the cliff and stepped onto the dying grass. 

“Sun,” he whispered, and Harry had to agree. The sun, which he hadn’t seen in the years he’d been here, had a distinct smell, or maybe he and Louis were just slightly delusional, but they’d always commented on how they could smell the sun coming out after a storm on Nevaeh. Maybe things were changing faster than he’d thought. 

“We have to stop in the village - we have another passenger to pick up,” Louis said then, and Harry thought he understood. However, he didn’t say anything to it as they hurried over the grass and down the sloping land to the outskirts of the town. As the ground beneath them changed to something more solid, they could hear shouts and the smashing of glass. Sparing each other one glance of knowing, they pushed forward into the riot now breaking out on the streets. 

People were flooding the streets, throwing things and smashing windows, all of their anger and frustration building and exploding in acts of vandalism and violence. Though Harry had half been expecting it, it still shocked him to see those people, who had spent their days walking around in a half daze, doing what they always did and always had done, breaking their rituals. He wondered if they knew exactly what had happened or if their recent awakening had just brought out the primal instincts they were displaying, but either way, it was a sight to behold. 

As they got closer to the center of town, the yells became louder, and the crowd thickened as more people joined the throng, which seemed to be forming a ring around a few people. Harry knew at once that those people would be The Elders, now that the people of Eroda could put a face to the name that had haunted their cautionary tales for years. 

Harry found that he couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t watch whatever these people were going to do to those who had betrayed them. As much as he hated them, it felt wrong. He felt Louis’ hand on his waist and he averted his gaze, letting Louis guide him away and towards their destination - The Fisherman’s Pub. 

The front windows were cracked but not yet smashed, and the owner of the pub came running out as they approached, screaming revenge and making his way to join the others. Peter followed, though he stayed in the doorway, sheltered from the majority of the damage but still here, still experiencing the first uprising in Erodian history since the days of Nevaeh’s magic departure. 

When he saw them, he smiled, and Harry was reminded of just how young he looked, despite being almost an adult. He moved forward to greet them, holding out his hand to grasp Louis’, as though they were old friends. 

“I readied the boat, just like you asked. It’s waiting where you said, with enough food to last you for a week at least.”

“Peter, you must come with us,” Louis said, confirming what Harry had thought he would do. He had no objections - Peter may have grown up an Erodian, but he was about as un-Erodian as they came. He had fed Harry, for one thing, and if an Erodian was treating a Peculiar as a human being, they were definitely thinking for themselves instead of giving in to old prejudices. They would fit well on Nevaeh, where everyone was welcome and treated with warmth. Harry smiled slightly, pleased beyond all measure that he could remember these things now instead of imagining them. 

Harry waited for Peter to accept and run inside to collect his things, but to his, and Louis’, surprise, he shook his head. “I cannot.”

“But why? You never belonged here in this place, Peter. You deserve a better life. We can take you somewhere better.” Louis was almost pleading, and Harry thought that this moment might be one that was helping Louis to reconcile with the idea of having to leave these people behind to figure this all out. Louis had always been like that - always wanting to make sure anyone and everyone had what they needed to survive before leaving them. 

“I have to stay. I have to help people reconcile with the lies they’ve been living with for years. Someone has to help. I want to make a difference here.” 

Peter spoke with all the wisdom of someone much older than his age, and Harry understood. If he could do something, he had always gone and done it, no matter the risk and no matter what he was giving up to do so. Had he been in Peter’s position, he would have done the same, and he told him as much, watching as Peter’s cheeks flared pink at the compliment he paid him. 

“We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,” Louis said softly as he pulled Peter in for a hug. Peter nodded as Louis released him, and Harry moved in, embracing Peter. Though they’d spoken only once before, he felt like he was leaving a friend behind. Peter’s grip tightened slightly on Harry before he let go, looking at both of them with a determination they knew only too well, for they had it too. 

“I’ll make you proud.”

With those words ringing in his head, Harry set off after Louis as they left town for the docks and the beach, and beyond that, the boat that would take them home. 

The shouting echoed against the small buildings as the road beneath them became sandy, and soon their footprints were leaving dents in the wet dunes. They edged around the cliff face, as they had done before, and as the cove came into view, Harry spotted a beautiful boat, modest in size, but everything they would need. 

They hurried to it and Louis leapt aboard, surveying the vessel. Harry could see a bit of the captain in him coming out as he took a quick inventory and unloaded jars from his pockets. It was different to see Louis like this, seeming to be in full control and total confidence - he was happy that Louis was back in that headspace. Being around Deloria and feeling like he was fighting a losing battle must have been hard on his mind. Harry only wished he could have been more attuned to it.

“Come on up, H. Seems pretty sturdy, and you can store the jars down here,” Louis said gesturing. Harry hesitated, one foot on the wooden edge of the boat. He had never once been on a boat, at least, not that he could remember right now, other than the one that had brought him here. He felt a bit sick with fear that he knew was irrational, but it prevented him from moving any further. Louis turned and, seeing Harry frozen, held out his hand. That was something Harry trusted without thinking twice, and he took it, hoisting himself over the side. 

After they had stored the jars, save one, which they would use to start their journey, they both turned to each other. 

“I think it’s time to go,” Harry found himself saying, but before Louis could make any moves, Harry knew there was one last thing he had to do. Jumping down from the boat, he lifted the helmet from under his arm and placed it on the sand, standing up. Stepping back, he knew he was making the right choice. Earlier, he thought maybe he should take it with him, but it would only remind him of the pain of his past, and maybe one day, someone would find it and it would remind them of the sacrifices that had to be made to free Eroda from magical dictatorship.

Louis started messing around with ropes and the sail, and at a direction from him, Harry moved forward and joined Louis to give the boat a starting push. Harry jumped back in and Louis came right after him, his trousers and shoes soaked, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Harry was doing his best not to stare at how the trousers clung to Louis’ legs. 

The boat picked up a little wind in the sail as they rounded the corner to the main port area of Eroda. Harry could see smoke rising from the town - something was on fire. And yet, while most people were nowhere to be seen, or joining the distant crowd, Harry thought he saw one person standing on the dock, waving them off. 

Harry knew that this moment would be one he would remember forever - finally leaving his prison and sailing for his paradise. For some reason, he wanted to take one last look at the place, and so he did. He took in the faded green of the mountains, the roofs of the buildings, the nets for the fish, all of it. In some strange way, he knew he would miss it, but only because it was the place that had brought him back to Louis. 

At that moment, Harry felt Louis’ fingers tangle with his, and he squeezed his hand, their rings pressing together, like they hadn’t spent any time apart. 

“Do you think we’ll ever come back?” Louis asked, looking up at Harry. Harry thought, then shook his head. 

“It’s best that we leave them to sort this out. We did our part.”

Louis seemed to agree, and Harry was glad. He wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it. His feelings were more conflicted than he’d imagined they would be. 

The waves became choppier the further they went, and Louis again pulled ropes and adjusted things, catching a little more wind. He looked over at Harry then, his hair whipping in the breeze. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. 

“Time to open one of those jars and see what it can do,” Louis said with a grin, and Harry obliged, pulling out the jar they’d saved just for this and aiming it behind them, towards Eroda. He loosened the cap and pulled it away. Again, he heard the faint sound of a scream, his scream, like a ghost finally let loose. And as the magic, for he now knew that somehow, he’d managed to expel his magic without meaning to, was released, it propelled them out to sea and the clouds parted; a bright, hot sun beat down on them and over Eroda, causing the water to turn from icy grey to deepest blue. Harry shielded his eyes, but he was laughing, spinning around as best he could and tilting his head back so as to warm his face. 

Louis was leaning into him, and Harry put his arm around Louis’ shoulders, watching the frown of Eroda fade into the distance. Though, now that he was leaving it behind forever, Harry could see why they always said it looked like a crescent. 

It was only when Louis brought his hand up and brushed his thumb across Harry’s cheek that he realized he was crying. 

“You alright, love?” Louis asked, tenderly wiping away his tears. Harry nodded and leaned in for a kiss, which Louis accepted happily. When Harry pulled back, he was smiling so hard it hurt. 

“We’re going home,” he whispered, hardly daring to believe that they’d actually done it. Louis’ smile widened at that, and he nodded, turning to face the open sea. 

“Yeah, we are. Set a course for Nevaeh.”

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Their journey was not an easy one. Harry quickly found out, or maybe he remembered, that he got easily seasick, and spent most of the first few days with his head over the side of the boat, vomiting up the small amounts of food he ate. The rations Peter had packed them were good ones, but, not knowing how long it would take them to find Nevaeh, they thought rationing them was the best way to spread it out. Whatever they didn’t eat, they would give back to their people.

It was on the fifth night, and Harry had just washed his mouth out with a few swigs of water and a slice of bread. Louis had steadied the sail, and he collapsed next to Harry, his face a sheen of sweat and his chest heaving. His eyes were dark and sagging - he looked exhausted. 

Harry pulled him in close and kissed his forehead. “I wish I could help you, Lou. M’sorry I’m useless.” He had tried hard not to feel down on himself these last few days - he had everything he’d ever wanted, and the longer they traveled, the more he remembered about his life before Eroda. But those feelings and those experiences, the ones that dragged him into the deepest pits of his own personal hell, never went away, not really. It was hard, even when he was so happy and looking forward to his future, to feel good about himself. Especially when he had spent most of the last five days being sick while Louis ran around doing all the muscle work. 

Louis shook his head and pressed a water jug to his lips, taking small sips as he tried to relax. “Not your fault, love. I’m happy to do it. We’ll be there in a few days, I’m sure.”

Harry didn’t want to point out that he’d said that the day they left, and every day since then, so he didn’t. He just pressed his lips to Louis’ temple and let him doze against him. It was times like this, when the sea was completely calm and a soft breeze was carrying them, that Harry could almost believe they were laying on a beach, looking up at the stars, completely safe in their own world. And one day soon, this would become a reality. He just kept repeating that to himself, hoping to spot land and have his life-long fantasy come true. 

And so it continued for another four days. Harry, not used to the blistering sun, found his skin red and stiff, and he tried as best he could to cover himself, but the only clothes he had on were the ones he’d been captured by Deloria in, and they were torn and stiff with salt water. Louis had done his best to help Harry adjust to the change in weather, but he too was suffering. Even after sailing for nine days, he still seemed nervous. Every wave they encountered had Louis stiff and terrified until it passed. They were both reconciling with their own trauma, and so desperate to find their home, that they almost got lost in the stress. At night, though, when things seemed to calm down and the cool air soothed Harry’s burned skin, they sat together, eating or talking or just watching the endless water stretch out before them, reflecting the light of stars millions of miles away. 

Their tenth day at sea dawned bright, early, and hot. They had gone through all their food around day seven and they were both starving. Harry’s lips were chapped and cracked, and his skin was starting to peel, revealing fresh skin underneath that was bound to be burned within a few hours. 

Harry could barely lift his head, and Louis was slumped near the end, barely awake as he steered them slightly one direction. Harry found himself reaching for the last of his magic jars. He had berated himself many times for wasting so many of them, and especially now, as he stared at the smallest of the jars - the only one left. 

He and Louis made eye contact as the sun broke over the horizon, and Louis nodded. “Might as well - it’s our only hope.”

Harry struggled with the top, his hands shaking from lack of sustenance, and finally yanked it off, releasing the magic inside. They rocketed forward as a slightly faster pace, and Louis leaned heavily against the mast, looking ready to drop at any moment. Harry lay down, thinking that if Louis fell, it would at least be on something more comfortable than the damp, wooden bottom of their boat. 

Louis suddenly sat up, and he seemed to regain a little energy as he looked again. Harry had none left, and he let his eyes slip closed, hoping he could sleep for a few hours. But then, Louis uttered one word, so hoarse and so faint that Harry almost didn’t hear him, but when he did, the word sent shivers down his entire body. 

“Land.”

Somehow, Harry found the strength to sit up, and he looked where Louis was pointing. In the distance, he could see a crescent shape, much like Eroda, but with green vegetation and pearly white beaches. A flag flew over what must have been some sort of settlement, bearing the colors of white, blue and purple. 

“We … made it?” Harry asked, and Louis nodded wearily, leaning back against the side of the boat. 

“Yeah. We made it - that’s Nevaeh. We’re home.”

Harry let himself fall back to his previous position, a mixed feeling of elation and fear surging through him. He was home again, but he had been gone for over ten years. Would anyone recognize him? Would they care? Would they even let them dock, not knowing who they were or where they came from?

He tried to lift his head again, to watch his home come closer and closer, but he couldn’t. His eyes were too heavy to even keep open, and he sighed, feeling the breath wheeze through his parched throat. Maybe he wouldn’t even make it to Nevaeh. Maybe he’d die out here - but that wouldn't be so bad, would it? He’d be with Louis. And, right now, as he felt himself slipping, that was all he really needed. 

He could hear faint shouts, and some of the voices seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place them yet. He just wanted to sleep. 

As the boat seemed to stop, rocking gently in the water, and footsteps pounded through what Harry could only assume to be sand, he let everything fade away, welcoming the darkness for the first time. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

When he awoke this time, Harry didn’t feel an impending sense of doom, and as far as he could tell, he had full control over his limbs. He could feel soft pillows beneath his head, and the air smelled like the sea and lavender. He had a sudden flash of memory - his mother walking through the kitchen, her skirt swirling in the wind, giving off that ever-familiar scent of her lavender perfume. 

Heart suddenly pounding, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the sunlight. He was most definitely going to have to get used to that. He moved to sit up, his eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the room, and his skin pulled uncomfortably. Looking down, he could see how blistered it had become on the boat, and he was grateful for the new clothes he’d been given and the softness of the sheet. 

He looked around the room - it must have been some kind of infirmary or hospital, but it felt different than the one on Eroda. This place felt open, the windows thrown wide to allow the breeze to come in, and the walls were a soft cream instead of a glaring white. It made him feel much more calm. He wondered if he’d always felt this at peace on Nevaeh, or if it was just a side effect of being away from Eroda, which had caused him such misery in every way. 

“Ah, good, you’re awake.”

Harry looked around and saw a brunette male nurse flipping through a chart. When the nurse looked up and they made eye contact, he smiled. 

“I know you probably don’t remember me just yet, but we went to school together. I suppose I should welcome you home. My name’s Niall and I’ll be taking care of you for your stay here.”

Harry just nodded, waiting for more information. He vaguely remembered a very excitable kid that had sat behind him in almost every one of his primary school classes. This must be him - he had always had an interest in medicine. 

Niall did a bit of scribbling before continuing to talk. “Looks like you’re pretty healthy, severe sunburn and dehydration notwithstanding. Your memories are coming back well - you should remember most everything in a few days or so. Erodian magic is such a warped version of ours it’s hard to understand sometimes.” Niall looked up then and grinned. “But if what Louis told us is true, you guys may have solved all our problems with your little burning stunt.”

Harry only registered one word of that entire spiel. “Louis. He’s awake? Here? Can I see him?”

Niall laughed. “You guys did always kind of have a really tight friendship. Guess it was only a matter of time. He was discharged a day or so ago. He’s been with his family, but he’s been visiting every day. I’m sure he’ll stop by today.”

“How long have I been here?” Harry asked, suddenly dreading such an answer. 

“About a week. Because you spent so much time on Eroda, we had to keep you for a bit longer to make sure whatever magic was worked on you was out of your system before we began to use ours to speed up the healing process.”

Harry sat back heavily against his pillows. He’d been out for almost a week. He’d been home for seven days and he’d spent all of that time in a bed instead of out, looking for his family. He didn’t want to be here a moment longer. He could feel his heart beating somewhere in the region of his throat at the mere thought of his family being here, though. It had been nearly eleven years since he’d last seen them; though he knew, through a combination of his own returning memories and the one he shared with Louis back on Eroda, that his parents wanted him home and missed him, he felt like they would somehow be disappointed in what he had become. He wasn’t the person who had left, not by a long shot. He was much more beaten and broken and battered, and, as far as he could figure, much more reserved. 

Niall had left him to think while he whistled his way through checking Harry over quickly, jotting a few more things down before giving the clipboard a firm slap. “I’ll get you some food - you must be starving. We were feeding you ourselves those first few days, but I think you deserve some real food.”

He hit a button on a pager at his waist, and a few minutes later, another man, his arms covered in tattoos, came rolling in with a tray of assorted fruits and breads and cheeses. Harry was so overwhelmed by the color and variety, and by the mere fact that it wasn’t old fish, that he almost made himself physically sick. 

“Ah, thanks, Li. Harry, this is Liam. He was in school with us too.”

Liam nodded, positioning his cart next to Harry’s bed. “Nice to meet you again. Welcome home.”

Harry nodded with a small smile, which seemed to please Liam. He rattled off the list of things he’d brought and pointed to each one. Harry’s mouth was watering before he’d even gotten through the fruits, and as soon as Liam stopped talking, he reached for a bunch of grapes, picking one off gingerly and popping it in his mouth. The explosion of flavor made him shiver, and another memory surfaced - he and Louis, probably about 8 or 9, sneaking out to the beach at night to watch the stars. Harry had brought grapes, and they’d spent most of the time trying to throw them into the other’s mouth. He smiled at that memory, wishing more than anything that Louis was here right now to share it with.

It was a decent fifteen minutes in which Harry sampled nearly everything Liam had brought him, and just as he’d chosen another piece of cheese, Niall poked his head through a door at the end of the short corridor of beds. 

“Got a visitor for you, Harry. I’m sure you won’t mind.” Niall winked and disappeared, and moments later, Louis was stepping through the door, looking cleaner and healthier than Harry had ever seen him. His blue button down shirt matched his eyes, and his skin had this healthy glow that Harry had seen before but never been able to fully appreciate. When they made eye contact, Louis smiled widely, and Harry found himself pushing his sheet and duvet aside, attempting to stand as Louis ran down the ward to him. 

On unsteady feet, Harry and Louis found an embrace, and Harry buried his face in Louis’ shoulder, so completely relieved that they’d survived and made it home that he was shaking. Louis held him and rubbed his back, helping him sit back down before letting him go. They just smiled at each other until Harry leaned in for a kiss, and Louis came down on top of him, both of them giggling like school children. Harry couldn’t remember being happier than he was right now. 

“Louis … Louis, Louis,  _ Louis _ ,” Harry found himself whispering, and Louis stopped kissing his neck long enough to take a good look at him and kiss the tip of his nose. Harry wrinkled it, suddenly aware of his cheese breath, but Louis didn’t seem to care. 

“I’ve been in every day, and Niall said you were getting better, but I was so scared I’d killed you out there … you were so still that first day,” Louis said softly, the worry evident on his face. Harry cupped Louis’ cheeks in his hands. 

“I’m alright. I’m here. We made it.”

“Yeah, we did. We’re home,” Louis said, plucking a grape from the few Harry had left over. “Do you remember how much trouble we got in for sneaking off that one night?”

Harry had to laugh, glad that he wasn’t the only one reminded of that night by grapes. “I actually do. My mother gave me such a telling off, saying I shouldn’t be off on my own.”

“You weren’t alone, you were with me,” Louis clapped back, and Harry could hear a 9-year-old Louis saying that to him after he’d told him what his parents had thought of their little outing. 

They sat there, eating away at Harry’s plethora of food and just stealing little glances and kisses every now and then. It felt so different to the way things had been, but Harry wouldn’t change it for the world. The freedom he felt just sitting here with Louis outweighed everything that had ever happened on Eroda. 

It was when Liam came to collect the tray and whispered something to Louis that Harry became aware of a sort of tension - not a bad one, but more of anticipation, in the room, and he turned to Louis as Liam walked away, his eyebrows pulling together. Louis took a deep breath. 

“Okay … don’t hate me, but I … I’ve been spending some time with your family.”

Harry, shocked, didn’t say anything to that, and Louis continued, as though talking faster would make it sound less strange.    
  


“After I saw my family, I went to tell your parents and sister that I’d kept my word in bringing you back, and that I hoped they’d want to see you. They did, of course, but they wanted you to be awake, and so … are you okay?”

Harry wasn’t sure what face he was making, but he was almost certain that all the delicious food he’d just eaten was about to regurgitate itself. 

“I … I’m not … I didn’t think it would be this soon,” Harry managed to say, his breathing becoming just slightly faster. He shouldn’t be scared right now - this was his family. The people who raised him. The ones who never gave up and let Louis go after him even when it seemed hopeless. Moments ago he’d been ready to go off searching for them despite his injuries. So why did he suddenly feel so horrible?

Louis shook his head quickly. “I didn’t bring them if that’s what you’re thinking. I thought … I guess I knew somehow that you’d want to meet them on your own time and in your home. Or maybe I’m completely overstepping, I’m sorry. I should have …” Louis trailed off hopelessly, his blue eyes wide. 

Harry attempted to calm his breathing. He didn’t have to do this right now. Louis had thought everything through, like the wonderful person he was and always had been. Harry remembered that about him now - every instance that he could recall had always included Louis putting Harry’s needs before his own. He hoped he could repay the favor one day. 

“Thank you. For … being with them. I don’t know if I’m ready … I don’t want them to be disappointed.” Harry wasn’t sure how or why those words decided to come out of his mouth. He was very used to hiding every emotion he had behind a mask and the glass windows of his helmet. Thinking of that helmet made him shiver violently. But speaking his emotions without fear? It wasn’t him. Or maybe it had been. He couldn’t be sure anymore. 

Louis’ expression was outraged, if a little sad, and he moved forward, sitting himself on the edge of Harry’s bed and taking his hand. “How could anyone ever be disappointed in you? You’re beautiful, you’re smart, and you survived what generations have not. You’re a fucking rock star.”

Harry smiled in spite of himself. Louis hadn’t sworn much on Eroda, but he clearly remembered the first words Louis had said to him when they’d met, and they’d been pretty harsh. Maybe he was starting to gain his old personality back. Harry found it intriguing - this part of Louis was one he hadn’t seen develop, as he’d been on Eroda when Louis had grown up. This Louis that he was starting to see, it was a whole new person, one that Harry didn’t quite have the pleasure of knowing. It scared him far more than meeting his family. 

Louis must have seen the change of expression on his face, because he lifted Harry’s hand to his lips and kissed it once, twice, three times. “Don’t get all in your head, H. Remember we’re here. You and me, against the world. We beat the odds.”

Harry nodded, forcing his smile to remain just for a moment. Niall came bustling in at that time, and Louis gave Harry’s hand one last kiss before standing up and letting go. Harry desperately missed the contact, but forced his attention on Niall and away from Louis, hoping that this distraction would be enough to force away his thoughts and doubts. 

“Now that your little love fest is over, I’d like to take care of my patient, Lou,” Niall said jokingly, and Louis shoved his shoulder playfully. Harry’s stomach turned over at the ease of their friendship. What if, after eleven years, he and Louis didn’t have what made them such good friends in the first place? 

Harry watched Louis walk the length of the room and disappear through the door, and only looked away when Niall cleared his throat, looking knowingly at him. 

“What?”

“You don’t know how totally gone he is for you, do you?” Niall said simply, and Harry pressed his lips together, refusing to let himself hope that Niall’s words were true. “Don’t you think I didn’t see the way you looked at us. You think he likes me more. You think he’s so different from when you left that you’ll never be able to get back what Eroda took from you both. But it’s a lie. Don’t let yourself sink back to that place. You’re home, and Louis loves you more than he’s loved anyone. More than me. More than his parents, probably. He never stopped looking for you. He almost died several times, but he never stopped. Remember that.”

Harry felt the tears burning in the corners of his eyes and looked away, the effort of trying not to cry in front of a virtual stranger straining his throat and his lungs. He could feel the burned skin on his back pulling as he tried to get into a more comfortable position. 

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said softly, and Niall just nodded with his perpetual grin. 

“Now, let’s talk about release times. A lot of your skin is still pretty burned, but with the help of our healers and the salve I invented myself, you should be out of here in a few days. I’ll have Louis come by to escort you home. That alright?”

Harry nodded once again, feeling suddenly exhausted. All this thinking and moving and talking had taken so much out of him. He hadn’t realized how weak he truly was.

Niall scribbled something on his notes and then moved to pull a curtain around Harry’s bed. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

Harry was asleep before the curtain had closed all the way. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

_ I can’t do this.  _ _   
  
_

_ I’m not ready. _

_ They’re going to turn me away.  _

_ Why am I still walking? _

These thoughts played over and over in Harry’s head as he and Louis headed down the corridors of the hospital towards the exit. Niall had discharged him only a few minutes ago, and Louis had been there waiting for him with a fresh set of clothes and a smile. 

Harry had changed behind his curtain - not that Louis hadn’t seen him naked before, but this time it felt different. He felt vulnerable, especially since the clothes Louis had brought were not what he’d worn for the last eleven years. Instead of dark wool pants, he’d been given a pair of shorts that fell just above his knee in an olive color, and a crisp white t-shirt. No shoes had been provided - everyone walked barefoot around here, apparently. He looked at himself in the small mirror above what had been his bed - he didn’t quite look like himself. But that self, the one who dressed to hide in dark clothes, wasn’t him anymore. At least, he didn’t think it was. 

Louis stopped right before the doors that lead outside, turning to face Harry and taking his hands. “Hey. Look at me, love.”

Harry did, but very reluctantly, afraid of what he might see in Louis’ eyes. But there was nothing but adoration there. 

“I know you’re nervous, but I’m gonna take you on a bit of a walk, clear your head, get you reacquainted with the area. Gives you a little more time.”

Harry could have kissed Louis, he felt so relieved. Instead, he just pulled Louis in for a momentary hug and then let out a deep breath, ready to follow Louis into the world beyond. Louis pushed open the door, allowing the sunlight to come in, and Harry stepped out onto the streets of Nevaeh. 

As they walked from the front of the hospital to the main road, Harry couldn’t help but stare at his surroundings. Every building he could see was made of this white stone, frosted with a fine layer of sand. Windows were thrown open, doors were ajar, and everyone was talking to everyone. It was in complete contrast to Eroda. And what was more, magic was alive in the air. Everywhere he glanced, someone was waving their hands to make the trash sort itself, to take inventory, to clean the tables of a restaurant, and many other things besides. 

“It’s so …” Harry said, trying to find the right words to describe what he was witnessing. 

“Free?” Louis suggested, and Harry nodded numbly, watching as a little girl no older than five sliced a loaf of bread with her mind, guiding the knife with nothing but her watchful gaze.

It was a wonder to behold. He had never thought he would be somewhere where the sun beat down on his back or the people called out his name in greeting instead of fear. He waved shyly at a few exclamations of joy he received. Louis took it all in his stride, walking proudly by his side, and by the time they left the main road and headed for the outskirts of Nevaeh, Harry almost felt like he belonged. Almost. 

He couldn’t help that the darkness that had taken root in him was still there, lurking out of sight. He felt like he was half here, with Louis, surrounded by beauty and kindness, and half on Eroda, stuck in a rainstorm with no way of escaping. He didn’t know how to tell Louis this, because Louis seemed to bounce back so quickly. But Louis had been gone a much shorter time than Harry, and Harry was still regaining his full memory back. He had to remember that he was lucky to even be here, alive and well, with Louis by his side. Otherwise, he’d fall apart. 

Louis pointed out houses and fountains and play places as they walked, keeping up a constant chatter that drowned out the voices in Harry's mind. He was grateful for it, and nodded along as Louis named the fifth fountain they’d passed. It was only when they stopped in front of an ordinary white stone house that Harry remembered why they were out here, and he went suddenly cold all over, despite the heat. 

The house looked like something he should remember. He thought there was a little sliver of memory there as he let his fingers brush against the fence surrounding the small patch of grass that stood as a front yard. The name “Styles” was printed on the front door. His last name. 

“You alright?” Louis asked, but Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say that would express how desperate he was to be inside that house with his family and how much he wanted to run away and never face this moment. 

“I … umm,” Harry mumbled, swallowing hard and trying to regain some composure. He could do this. 

“You’re ready, H. They’re waiting in there for you. I can stay out here if you-”

“No. No, please, I … come in with me?” Harry asked, knowing he’d never make it to the door if Louis left him to do it alone. Louis nodded, gripping his hand tightly, and they walked to the front door, entering the cool interior of the house.

Immediately, Harry smelled the lavender that he’d vaguely recognized at the hospital, and he was suddenly transported into a stream of memories. He could see his mother playing the piano as him and his sister danced around the kitchen. He could feel her warm embrace as she sent him off to his first day of school. He could smell the delicious scent of his favorite meal. 

He took a deep breath in and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly aware that he hadn’t brushed it for ages, but Louis leaned up to peck his cheek, whispering lovely things in his ear. 

As he looked around, he saw pictures decorating the walls. He could remember when his father had spent an entire day putting them up, after three years of his mum begging him to do it. He could see the awards his sister had won for academics in a shadow box off to his right. The house felt comfortable - it was clean, but with an air of having been well-lived in. There was a dent in the wall where Gemma had hit it with a hammer a little too hard, and a creaky floorboard where Harry used to hide his snacks. He noticed Louis looking at him, but it was with love instead of judgement. He had better get used to that - no longer was he in a place where he should expect to be judged. If anything, he should be expecting warm welcomes, like he’d received on their walk through town. It was different, but just those few things made him feel lighter than he ever had. 

Harry smiled at Louis, and with a nod, Louis led him forward into the kitchen, following the delicious smell of food. 

There was a woman standing at the oven with her back to him, and a man reading a large book in a comfortable chair in the adjoining room. They both looked up as Harry and Louis entered the room. 

Harry looked into his mother’s face for the first time since the morning he had been taken. While she looked slightly older, nothing had changed about her wide green eyes, so much like his, or her smile as she looked at him. She put the mixing spoon down and took a few steps his way, as though unsure if he was actually standing there. The man had stood up from his seat and was venturing in from the other room. 

“Mum? Dad?” Harry asked, hardly daring to believe that this wasn’t just some horrible dream that Deloria had cooked up to torture him. The woman nodded, and Harry found himself suddenly enveloped in a hug from both sides. 

To be hugged by someone you love is something Harry had always craved, even on his worst days on Eroda. He supposed that his body must have remembered how wonderful it was to be held, but nothing, not even those distant memories, could have compared to this moment - to being held by his mother and his father behind him. He knew he was crying, but for once, he didn’t feel bad for showing his emotions. He let it all out while his parents murmured words of thanks and praise and love as they stood there, unwilling to let go for fear that it would disappear the moment they did so. 

Harry’s mind raced with the reminder of every hug they’d shared over the first 12 years of his life. When he’d scraped his knee and gotten sand in it, when he’d saved his sister from a crab, and when he’d told them that he thought he might be falling in love with his best friend. Every hug had been special, but this one, right here and right now, was everything. 

“We missed you, my darling,” his mother whispered into his hair as she kissed his head over and over again. 

“It was never the same without you here,” said his father, a hand on his back for comfort. Harry just nodded, the words not coming to him as he held on tighter. 

When they’d finally broken apart, there was another person in the kitchen. She was younger than his mum, but looked like she could be her twin. Harry smiled through his tears as his sister jumped into his arms. He held her easily as she sobbed into his shoulder, words failing her. Harry felt the same, and he was grateful that his family did not expect him to say much in this moment. He wasn’t sure he was up to answering any kind of questions. He just wanted this, these moments, burned into his brain forever. 

When Gemma had released him, they all stood there, reveling in the moment of their family finally being complete again. 

“I … I missed you guys. I know I couldn’t remember, but there was always something missing,” Harry admitted quietly, and Gemma put a hand on his arm. 

“We don’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault. But you’re here now. That’s all we’ve ever wanted,” his mum said, a few tears sliding down her own cheeks now. 

It was this moment that struck Harry the hardest. Standing here, surrounded by his family, who, only two weeks ago, he hadn’t remembered at all, being told that it was alright. He felt so different being here. Every step he took, every person he spoke to or remembered, made him happy. For so long, he had convinced himself that the only emotion he would ever feel was loneliness, and he’d allowed those thoughts to consume him. He’d blamed himself all those lost years without realizing it, and being told that he didn’t have to bear that pain was something he’d never considered. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“For what, love?” his father asked, and Harry sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. 

“For waiting for me.”

Harry found himself in the middle of a group hug once more, which only ended when Louis cleared his throat, seemingly uncomfortable with intruding on these moments.

They all turned to him, and Harry smiled widely, feeling somewhat like his old self again. It was just seeing Louis there, in his home, like he belonged, and no one questioning it. 

It was his father who spoke first. His voice was deep, as Harry remembered it. “Louis, we cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for our family.”

  
“Every moment you spent out there was a moment of easing our worry and guilt and bringing us hope,” his mum added. 

“Thank you for bringing him home,” Gemma said, brushing her dark hair from her eyes and giving Harry’s waist a squeeze from behind. 

“I made you all a promise. I didn’t intend to return without keeping it.”

Harry moved forward, away from the circle of his family, and pulled Louis into a fierce hug. “I never thanked you properly for saving me. I … I don’t even know what to say. Just … thank you,” he said, stuttering over the words as Louis pulled back, his eyes the brightest of blues. 

Louis’ mouth quirked up. “You’re welcome. But for what it’s worth, it’s you who saved me.”

Harry couldn’t do anything else but kiss him, so kiss him he did. Their lips moved carefully against each other’s, aware that they were being watched, and Harry pulled away almost reluctantly. Louis’ cheeks were flushed now, and his family were all suppressing their smiles. 

“Why don’t you two get a little more air, and we’ll finish up the food here. I’m making your favorite,” Harry’s mum said, and he found himself grinning. 

“Chicken tacos with fresh salsa?” he asked, and she nodded with a laugh. 

“Glad you remember! You used to ask for this every night when you were small.”

Harry felt a profound sense of calm and serenity wash over him. This all felt so normal, so right. Everything that had been missing from his life, even when he hadn’t known that there was anything to miss, was here, right now. 

He would savor this moment for the rest of his life. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

Louis had been walking down the road for so long, Harry was almost convinced that he was taking him back to the hospital. They hadn’t said much, too high on their own happiness to find proper words to express it. But Louis turned off at the last second, leading Harry down a few backroads until they emerged onto a small square. Here, there was hardly a sound to be heard, other than the distant crashing of the ocean against the shore. 

Louis reached back for Harry’s hand and walked him over to a wall, only about four feet wide. There were flowers of every color present there, some in bouquets, some alone, but all placed lovingly in front of the wall, where several plaques resided. 

Harry’s eyes read over the names stamped into the metal, recognizing some of them from his own research, and he realized what this must be. It was a memorial for all those from Nevaeh who had been taken. Which meant …

And there he was, right on the end of the wall, his name emblazoned in bronze forever. 

_ Harry Styles _

_ Taken, Age 12 _

It was a pretty simple thing, but Harry could feel the emotional weight of the place, heavy on his heart. 

“I came here every day for a month after you were taken,” Louis said quietly, as though he was embarrassed. “I thought for some crazy reason that I could use magic to make you hear me through this. I just kept begging you to come home.”

Harry could see the tears on Louis’ cheeks, but he didn’t stop or interrupt. Louis had clearly never said this to anyone before, and Harry wanted to let him have that moment, as Louis had let him have his with his family. 

“And when it didn’t work, I was determined to make it, even if I had to find you myself. And I was a kid, but that didn’t matter to me. You were more important. I was already half gone for you, you know,” Louis admitted with a laugh. “We were only kids, still trying to work out what life even was, but I knew that no matter what, you were a part of mine. And now I’ve brought you home, and I just feel so strangely empty. It’s like the drive I had this entire time is gone because I did what I was supposed to do. I did my duty to you, and now I don’t know if it was enough ... if I’m worthy enough.”

Harry hadn’t expected this conversation to turn this way. He walked away from his name, back a few paces to where Louis was standing, and pulled him in close. 

“You were always worthy, and you still are. You did the impossible. Somehow, I always knew someone would come for me. Or maybe it was a far off hope, I don’t know. But somewhere deep inside me, I knew someone was out there for me, maybe waiting or searching or something. And then you showed up on that beach, and saved me from an end that would have been the worst mistake of my life, and I knew … I knew you were special. You made me feel things, things I’d refused to let myself feel.” Harry finally stopped for breath, feeling Louis’ tears on his shirt. “I love you, Louis Tomlinson. You brought me home, and you loved me every step of the way. I couldn’t ask for better. My hero.”

Louis laughed, wiping the tears from his face. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two white roses. “I brought these for us. I know it’s silly, but I thought maybe we should say goodbye? You know, to your old self.”

Harry kissed Louis’ cheek sweetly, making the moment last a beat longer than necessary. “I think we should do just that.”

They moved forward together, placing the roses at the base of the memorial right under his name. They backed away slowly, Harry allowing himself to feel the weight of every name on the memorial - every Nevaehan who hadn’t ever made it home. Silently, he wished them well, that they might find peace in whatever kind of life they were experiencing now. After all these years, they deserved that. And so did he.

><> ><> ><> ><> ><>

_ It was in that moment that he felt it, _

_ As if it had been known to him all along -  _

_ To adore was to love with all your being, _

_ And to already reside in heaven _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! 
> 
> I worked for so long on this fic, and I'm just so glad to have it out there in the world for you guys to enjoy. 
> 
> I'll admit, I considered ending it as they sailed away from Eroda, but I had this scene in my head that happened after they arrived home, and I just had to write it. Their story wasn't over until that scene happened. 
> 
> Another little tidbit - we know Eroda is Adore backwards. My sister island, Nevaeh, is heaven backwards. Of all the names I went through and rearranged, that one seemed to hit me the hardest. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments! They are greatly appreciated :)


End file.
